Let Him Not Deceive Himself
by Maura Maud Jadeit
Summary: 'You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough' Frank Crane. After Emily is rescued Reid reacts. Betrayed and angry he lashes out and hides. Hotch isn't planning to let him hide forever. Friendship.
1. Chapter 1: Let Him Not Deceive Himself

**Title: **Let Him Not Deceive Himself… or Five Times Spencer Reid Called Aaron Hotchner Classic Narcissist.

**Warnings: **Profanity. Semi-ignorance of 7th season aside the beginning and since no one had seen it yet, certainly not me, references to the opening are minimal and after the premiere AU. The story is consistent with Famous Last Words but that one doesn't need to be read because important parts of the plot will be heavily referenced when necessary. Spoilers for up to the end of 6th Season.

**Pairings:** Hotch's and Reid's friendship. Others to be specified on later point. _Might contain minimal slashy references but nothing too offending other than a small freak out and while I wouldn't mind to write Hotch/Reid I'm withholding the actual idea until after the premiere._

**Summary:** 'You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough' Frank Crane. Betrayal has consequences and Hotch worries if Emily's return would cost them Reid. He isn't planning to give up. Not this time. Friendship.

**Word count**: Around 7000 already and counting up.

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Feedback __welcomed with open arms._

* * *

><p><em>You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough.<em>

_Frank Crane_

**Spencer Reid**

He kept his eyes closed and was breathing deeply, slowly. Faking sleep. From the distinctive prickling on the back of his neck he knew that he was being watched, **very** closely.

He knew that he should be seated somewhere around the briefing table, maybe not at the table itself but he should keep his eyes trained on Emily, ascertaining like the others did not so long ago that she was very much alive, exhausted and just there… back with them.

Except he wasn't. He crashed in the solitary armchair in the corner, with his back turned towards the rest of the team claiming complete exhaustion, mild headache, which he didn't have yet and the need to sleep.

But he didn't sleep. _He couldn't sleep_. Not when his mind was trying to rationalize everything that happened in past few months, trying to rationalize death and resurrection of Emily Prentiss, trying to rationalize the feeling of betrayal that was ragging inside him, tearing him apart, gnawing on the edge of his mind and wrecking his heart.

He trusted his team, he **ALWAYS** trusted his team because trusting them meant surviving. He trusted them all on many levels but he **ALWAYS** trusted them.

But from the whole team he trusted the two of them the most.

He trusted JJ because she always knew how to cheer him up, how to be strong for him when he wasn't. She was his closest friend, practically an older sister and she always had been emphatic with him. It was trust that build over the years, rooted inside him and she trusted him enough to make him godfather of her son…

She **also** stood there in the middle of hospital's waiting room, looked him in the eye and said that Emily didn't make it off the table… and when he tried to rush… to ascertain… to make sure… to see because he couldn't believe… just couldn't believe it… She stopped him, she let him cry in her arms…. She stopped him…

He admired her strength back then, he always admired this strength in her, the ability to provide support, comfort and a shoulder to cry on.

She looked him in the eye and lied. _She lied_. _**She fucking lied**_.

And he was so angry with her… so fucking mad that he couldn't stand to look at her.

And Hotch…

From the whole team aside of JJ he trusted Hotch the most. Always. Morgan was his best friend but there were things with which he couldn't turn to Morgan but he could turn to Hotch knowing that Hotch would understand him.

From the whole team Hotch knew him the best. He knew when to step up and shake him… He knew when to step down and just let him be… He knew when to take him seriously and when not…

Regardless of what Gideon, JJ, Emily, Morgan and Garcia thought about this it wasn't a spurt of the moment decision to trust Hotch when Rafael had him on the gunpoint. It wasn't… It wasn't because he knew them… He knew them all…

He knew that he couldn't trust Emily… Not back then. She wasn't around for too long, she wouldn't understand quirks, wouldn't remember references. He didn't know how she would react.

If he had given the message to JJ or Garcia they would end in tears. They would forgive him because he was in hell and the Satan was with him… he was going to die and dying people say things they don't necessarily mean to…

Unlike JJ and Garcia Morgan would take him seriously, he would take every word he would say and it would hurt him and Morgan had demons on his own to deal with. Even in his own private hell Reid couldn't help but protect his friend in the only way he had… by omission.

Gideon would forgive him like JJ and Garcia would because Gideon was never able to understand it. Guide him, teach him, yes. Understand? Perhaps in the early years when Reid was just a rookie and Gideon wasn't jaded by Boston…

It took Reid a lot of time to realize that Gideon started slowly falling apart long before he abandoned his badge and his gun and left the team for good. Gideon would never understand the desperate plea for salvation. He didn't understand the lure of drugs and didn't understand the struggle, he thought that he did but he didn't. Most certainly he didn't understand that Reid didn't need a fucking _permission_ to struggle, he needed a harsh meeting with reality. But that came later, after Georgia… Gideon wouldn't understand…

Not like Hotch did. Not like Reid trusted him to and knew at the bottom of his heart that Hotch would understand, would know right away that he didn't mean those words, that they were a rouse, a desperate, possibly the last cry for help from the man who was on the verge of dying… Man who already, albeit technically, died.

'I chose Aaron Hotchner… He is a classic narcissist. He thinks he is better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23, 4. Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for this shall be his recompense…'

He had chosen Hotch back then and he had chosen Hotch after Emily died. Chose to admit that the world stopped making any sense, that their job wasn't worth standing by when someone you cared for had passed away.

He was never fond of Carter, not like he was fond of Hawyer, Benton and Kirk they might not be friends but they let him be himself and accepted him the way he was, slowly but they did. He mourned them but he used the pain coming from their absence to continue doing his job, being better at what he was doing.

When Emily died… When Emily died the world became less brighter… there was no pleasure, no comfort to be found in work… in reading… in learning… finding interesting quirks… hunting bookstores for something new and tasteful which he could recommend for her… or old editions of the books she appreciated… finding movies they could watch together…

It took _weeks_ before he even could look at his reflection in the mirror… _Months_ before he dared to smile without thinking that he shouldn't smile because Emily would never smile again. It took _month_s to find comfort in laughter.

And it took _Cynthia_ to finally laugh without Emily's shadow looming over him.

_Cynthia_, his beautiful daughter. His precious little flower. His little angel. His northern star. His very reason to come back to work, to hunt serial killers, kidnappers, psychopaths, sociopaths… His everything.

He had a chance to walk away from the job before. Settle on less… or on more. He was struggling after Georgia and Gideon, he was never able to fully forgive the man for that, had given him a permission to struggle when all he needed was being placed on the edge of the abyss and being told that he had no excuses, that everything he had done to himself after leaving Georgia was him and him alone. That it was not Tobias, not Charles and not Rafael but **HIM**, that he had a life ahead of him and that he was choosing to throw it away, that _if_ he only asked he would receive help and that it was his and only **HIS** choice to make a step into the abyss or a step back to the tract.

In New Orleans he learned that he could walk away from the job. He could board the jet, write a report from the case, come back home write down the letter of the resignation, from BAU, from Bureau and start a life elsewhere, somewhere away and that with time he would make a decision who he wanted to be. He could do that. Rationally. He could. He had that choice.

But knowing that he could walk away didn't make walking away easy or right because walking away meant that he was letting Charles Hankel and Rafael win, admitting at loud that he was weak and that they won, that they broke him.

And he was anything but not weak. So he stayed, to prove to himself, to Charles Hankel, to Rafael, to anyone… that he wasn't weak, that he could still do this job, still use his knowledge for good, that he could offer the members of the victims' families the comfort of putting people responsible for their suffering behind the bars.

It was his drive during the detox, showing everyone that he wasn't weak, that he wasn't going to break even if many times he wanted to simply curl himself into a ball and howl in pain, scream the defeat… Except… he was stronger than that…

It got easier with time because he had to be strong, not only for himself, for Gideon even if nothing good became of that; for Hotch because Hotch couldn't lose another agent; for the team because he was needed and later because he was curious about Rossi and curious of what he could learn from him and the one that kept him firmly at his post… he had to be strong for the victims, for their families because it was his job.

_Baby steps_. One at time. Bit by fucking bit he inched himself to the point where he could freely admit that he could walk away as a strong man but he _didn't want_ to walk away. And then was Chula Vista, then Morrison who got her friend and almost herself killed because she wanted to be on the top and later it was Chester Hardwick and realizing that one of the strongest men he knew was falling apart, that he _almost_ got them killed because admitting at loud that he was going through a very hard time and he needed few days off to clear his head, settle his affairs in order… was _too much_ below his own standards.

And finally Owen Savage. Fat load of good the whole case had done to him. He saved Owen from suicide by a cop only to three fucking weeks of having the team hiding from him that Owen died from lethal injection two years later.

The only good which had come from that was admitting to himself that he was an addict, that despite his best efforts there was still weakness inside him and a weakness to which he had once chosen to succumb and the weakness he needed to fight.

Hotch understood it and he did what Gideon wasn't able to. He put him on the edge of the abyss, while still holding on his arm and told him the truth, showed him that he understood and told him what he should do because the choice was still in his hands. Step forward or step back.

That was the real reason why Hotch wanted him around during Brian Matloff's trial. Not for schooling him in previously abandoned idea of one day making him an expert witness but because he wanted him to know that if he needed a crutch to lean on that Hotch would be there.

In a way he was and Hotch continued understanding why he elected to stay behind in Nichols house when Morgan was ready to body-haul him from the house…

They ended butting heads after Rhode Island. In the office, but not when the others could see or hear them. Rossi could get to Hotch because he knew him the longest but Reid didn't have to know him the longest to throw at Hotch double standards, to deliver him the same words he spoke in Georgia.

He knew that he walked very thin line between losing his job and losing Hotch's respect but someone had to confront Hotch for his own good and he knew that unlike from the others Hotch will take the criticism from him.

_Stabbing… knives… needles… demons… psychopaths… Not only drugs could be addictive because rage was addictive too__… because rage was even harder than drugs to step away from._

Hotch understood that too. It took a while to sink and weeks before they were on speaking terms again. What mattered was single precious moment of sitting at the station when the others were searching abandoned house for cop's family, sharing incredibly bad coffee and listening to Hotch admittance that if he went with the team and they would find the family dead then he would lose it. Admitting weakness, like he admitted to weakness almost two years earlier when he told Reid that what he wanted he wouldn't get.

And he came back even if he didn't have to not only because there were still families that suffered but because if Hotch could come back and still be the best father then so could he.

_Fat load of good it did to him. Just two weeks after his return to work, a month after __he learned that he was a father…_

And of course it was **Hotch** who was watching him like a fucking hawk.

Emily was sleeping, so was JJ and Garcia. Morgan and Rossi were snoring too. Ashley wasn't with them any longer, she was transferred away to Seattle, to white collar crime.

"I can hear you thinking," Hotch said quietly as he slid into the seat in front of him.

"If you can hear me thinking then do yourself a favor and pick the other side of the jet," Reid muttered, still keeping his eyes closed. "This one is mine."

"She is alive Reid," Hotch said softly. "We have her back."

"I know," Reid shrugged. "I know that we have her back Hotch," he added quietly as he opened his eyes and looked at Hotch who had an unreadable expression on his face. "But I seem to be the only one who sees the price we paid, the price we are going to pay for having her back."

"Which is?" Hotch asked cautiously.

"I chose Aaron Hotchner… He is a classic narcissist. He thinks he is better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23, 4. Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for this shall be his recompense…" Reid whispered. "I told you during those charming grief counseling session that if we cannot keep each other safe then **why** we are making any of this," he said bitterly and he paused to lick his lips before he added, "And now I'm thinking that if we cannot trust each other then **how** we are so supposed to make any of this."

"Reid…" Hotch started.

"Don't, Hotch," he hissed. "Just don't. I have tons of days off to cash, I'm taking a week off as soon as we get off from the jet and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"I think we should talk it over…" Hotch started.

"We are talking it over right now, Hotch," he said sourly. "I'm making a decision and you are accepting it. Just like we accepted Emily's death, decision that was made for us and we had nothing to talk about, but we **had to** accept it. Good fucking night. I'm taking that week off with or without your blessing. If you have to write official reprimand you can start writing it right now, I will come to pick it up by next Monday."

He closed his eyes and dragged his jacket to his neck.

"Reid…" Hotch sighed.

"Do I have to wish you nightmares or will you take a hint and sod off?" Reid muttered.

"We had to protect you, all of you…" Hotch said quietly.

"Well you are doing piss poor job when it comes to protecting…" Reid snarled. "Do you want names…"

"You are getting out of the line…" Hotch started.

"It's right fucking time someone should," Reid sneered as he opened his eyes. "**We** had your back after Boston. The higher ups were disinclined to believe that you would manage to head an unit with three dead agents and one severely depressed unit chief. You made it, not all on your own. You weren't the only person who bent themselves into a pretzel back then. **We** pulled through. **We** pulled through after Elle left. **We** pulled through when Gideon left and **we** pulled through after Haley left. **We** pulled through after New York. **We** got through Foyet. **We** made it even when JJ left. You know when things started falling apart? In the moment **you** had chosen to not trust us to understand the importance of pretending that Emily was death. In the moment **you** and **JJ** put yourselves above the team. You think I'm the only one who feels like that? We all do but Morgan and Garcia right now are too happy with good and shiny to concentrate on bad and ugly. Rossi? He knows you and he assumes that you know that already. Perhaps you do, perhaps you don't. We trusted you, Hotch. We had your back and we trusted in you when other people didn't, we trusted you especially when no one else did…"

"I know…" Hotch started.

"There were other passages, you know," Reid muttered. "Other passages that would make the message more readable, more disjointed, still enough for Rafael but not as hurtful. I know my passages and there were many discussions to chose from, discussions which I knew you would remember… Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness and futility, for this shall be his recompense… I wonder now if it was desperate plead for salvation or foreshadowing of the things to come?"

He closed his eyes and wrapped his jacket even tighter around himself.

"You know why I made a choice to not tell all of you?" Hotch asked quietly. "Because I knew you would understand…"

"Don't throw my own words at me," Reid hissed.

"… with time. I will leave you now. Take as much time as you need. Goodnight Reid," Hotch added and he stood up.

When the jet landed in Quantico he was the first one who left it, grabbed his bag and made it to his car long before anyone could catch up with him. He needed to be home. Need to concentrate on one thing that was left intact in his life and he needed to think.

Coming back to work was hard after Cynthia entered his life because every minute he spend out there was every minute he wasn't by her side. But he came back for her… and now he didn't know if he made the right call. He needed to think, he needed to clear his head, he needed to reexamine his decisions and this time, this time he needed to make the right call….

**Aaron Hotchner**

He had meet Spencer Reid for the very first time during a lecture at Georgetown. It was 8th February 2002, Friday. Standard lecture on negotiating techniques. Come in, give the presentation, give few examples and judging from the interest of the students run few exercises, come back home, pretend that he wasn't worrying that his marriage was slowly starting to drift apart, pretend that his job actually mattered to anyone and most of all himself. Pretend through the rest of his life that he wasn't becoming more and more jaded, more and more paranoid, more and more lonely.

He could always quit, move to Hawaii and start a new life. He could always live mundane life of a lawyer whose greatest worry was that his client's property was a square inch smaller in reality than it was on plans. It was wonderfully, annoyingly boring possibility that loomed over him. Possibility he had found more and more welcoming with passing days.

He knew he could, except deep down he knew that he couldn't.

For fucks sake he was _barely_ thirty-six and he was burnt out like a sixty-six years old.

Gideon was getting on his nerves by shifting a crapload of work on his shoulders without as much as _could you help me_ but with a lot _it has to be done and I don't have time_.

Dear God, keeping up with Morgan, Carter, Hawyer and Benton back then was a literal pain in the backside. They were supposed to be in their thirties? They were supposed to be bright future of the Bureau? How the fuck they made it to BAU?

He knew that he was being unfair but dear God… they were getting on his nerves more than Gideon did. He was tired, overworked and the four of them did little to help him.

Reid was different. Wholly and completely different. Intelligent, very mature and somewhat very childlike at the same time. He was full of enthusiasm, hidden drive and eagerness to use his talents for the best.

After meeting Reid, once and then again and again Aaron found himself in completely horrifying position of questioning his own eagerness for weekly disputes about psychology and sociology, biology too even if he didn't have a chance to use it often in the field.

He was thirty-six, happily married for the most of the time, he **loved** Haley, he **wanted** to grow old with her, he wanted to watch their kids grow, wanted to live long enough to see grandchildren. **That** was his plan for life.

Becoming enchanted by someone fifteen years his junior and a male on that wasn't part of the plan at all. Except he couldn't help it, couldn't logically list in his head what was about Reid that drew him like a moth to the flame from one dinner to another, from one discussion to another. At least not then, not right away.

Sexual appeal? That wasn't Reid, at least not to Aaron. There was no tingling, no dreams with questionable scenarios, no allure whatsoever even if Reid did have the allure which drew other people to him. The incident from their walk to _The Stranger_, dimly lit bar with great beer, greater steaks and fascinating jazz music, was never talked after it happened by any of them, though once in Kansas City Aaron allowed himself to give small reference to that incident by saying that Reid was hit on by every prostitute they approached.

Sexual attraction wasn't the reason why Aaron found himself drawn to Reid.

Yet Reid was very interesting companion and they never run out from subjects during their talks. It was during those talks when Reid's insecurities and his knowledge started blending in an image which made Aaron choke on a fry.

What drawn Aaron to Reid wasn't sexual attraction at all. It was sense of intellectual kinship and dear God, realization that the line between abuse and abandonment was thin, very thin and it left marks deeper than skin-deep.

Sean as the youngest was never fully able to understand what wasn't mentioned in his presence, in fact for his sake of mind was avoided at all cost. Malcolm didn't understand because he hated being in a lower class than his four years younger brother and hated Aaron on principles. Thaddy had done a runner faster than father was able to say his full name as soon as he and Mum got married.

He had found a younger brother in Reid, one with whom he could share small bits of his past, intellectual disputes over anything and one whom he could teach and protect.

Getting Reid through the academy was pure hell. Academically Reid could end the training within twelve weeks. Physically? A year wouldn't be enough. So Aaron coached him, he set a peace so rigorous that it was a wonder that Reid didn't drown him in Potomac.

Reid's company awoke in Haley motherly instincts. Towards the end of the training it was actually Haley who ordered Reid to move into guest bedroom so she could monitor his calories intake because he was getting thinner instead of bulkier.

Oh, she also drove Reid up against the wall, well not in literal sense but Haley liked cycling and cycling helped to built up muscles. In Reid it mostly caused three dislocated fingers in left hand, each on separate occasion and quite severe aversion to cycling for a longer while. Aaron didn't blame him, Haley's peace was murderous even for him and he participated in cycling marathons.

Later it was only natural to keep Reid close by because Reid was his rookie and he needed to learn. Reid needed coaching, needed constant reassurance and approval… Aaron hated William Reid with the same passion he hated William Hotchner for the very same reason of being crappy father who left both of them full of insecurities and inability to trust people easily.

Aaron went down that path before and he burnt himself on his own insecurities and mistrust more than once before he realized that in order to gain control he had to give some of it in the first place.

Reid wasn't a control freak. Not at the beginning, he was too insecure of himself, of his abilities, of his knowledge, and for fucks sake he had three PhDs under his belt already and was making his way towards two BAs. Reid needed to trust in himself first and foremost in order to gain control and it was slow and painful process that sometimes required a push here, a pull there and great deal of patience.

Two years flew by and Reid rightfully worked himself into the position of SSA. He still lacked experience and still looked absurdly young but during those two years he had came a long way.

Then was Boston and Bale…

Carter, Hawyer and Benton were dead, Gideon was in severe shock and Aaron, Morgan and Reid avoided losing their lives only because agitated Reid mixed the reports on traffic in Boston and lead their SUV to construction site. During the ride Aaron was barely able to stop himself from chewing on Reid's stupidity only because he had to keep Morgan from saying something which would destroy all confidence in himself which Reid gained in past two years and the tentative friendship the two of them were trying to form.

Aaron didn't believe in luck or coincidences or fate. But his mind couldn't help but supply to him rational and logical scenarios. If they didn't get stuck in traffic they would be on the site with Carter, Hawyer, Benton and Gideon. Reid's rookie mistake had saved their lives.

Reid was right in his accusations. After Bosto Aaron wouldn't have gone anywhere without them. Without JJ, without Morgan, without Reid… They went without Gideon. Aaron had been made Acting Unit Chief when Gideon broke down and the only reason their team was still on rotation was that they didn't fall apart after Gideon did. Back then it was JJ who helped them the most, who signed in as a field agent and relieved Reid, Morgan and Aaron from their hardest duties.

He might have been Acting Unit Chief but JJ was their driving force. She was their nagging mother who pulled her boys out from the sandbox, dragged them to dinner and forced them to their beds. If she didn't travel with them for the first few weeks Aaron was sure that they would live on takeaway and sleep at the stations just because they wanted to prove to Strauss and bunch of higher-ups that Alpha Team still could work, **with or without** Gideon.

Then Penelope came in and JJ traveled with the team a bit more, she relieved Aaron, Reid and Morgan from the harsher duties of cooperating with local offices, making accommodations, handling death notifications, being the contact with families and handling the media.

They all worked their asses off to prove their worth and when Gideon recovered enough to consult from the office the higher-ups had found other, temporal, objects of observations… until Seattle.

In the meantime from Acting Unit Chief Aaron went to Unit Chief. Gideon didn't think that he himself was strong enough to accept all the load it had carried, not again. As for Morgan, Morgan might have experience required to step up but he still didn't trust the team enough to be trusted with the team. Not back then.

They learned with time to trust each other's strengths, support each other in weaknesses. They clicked in.

It was difficult for them to adjust to Elle, more than it was for Elle to adjust to them. In a way Elle was promoted too soon and too late at the same time. She wasn't in Boston and didn't understand the closeness with which they were protecting one another. They opened up to her, but too slowly and too late.

Elle was slowly cracking on the surface before she was attacked. Small cracks at first. First the realization that BAU was prestigious and elite unit but also a hell of a pressure cooker. Second, the attack in her own home… cabin fever and PTSD were fatal combination, Aaron knew that from self-experience. Third, William Lee, alleged serial rapist, one that would go away because they trusted that Elle would be able to keep it together.

After Elle it was a downward spiral. Chicago, Golconda and Marshall Parish… One fucking nail after another. Carl Buford, Frank Breitkopf and Tobias Hankel… weeks apart.

Morgan held himself together. Putting Buford behind the bars in a way exorcised the demon of the past and Aaron knew that Morgan won't lose it.

_But Reid…_

Three days of hell. Three days of knowing that Reid, innocent, childlike and so full of life Reid was tortured by a psychopath. Watching how Tobias Hankel tortured him. Physically and psychologically… Staring at his unconscious form on the dirty floor.

Aaron remembered his promise to Diana Reid he made shortly after Reid joined the team and the two of them had ended in Las Vegas on a case. That he would protect Reid from harm.

Over almost three days he promised himself repeatedly that they would bring Reid home, alive and in one piece, that they wouldn't allow Reid to slip away like Elle did and this horrible realization that everything they were doing for the past two days they were doing only to bring Reid home for a funeral, _his funeral_.

If only Gideon didn't tell Garcia, didn't order her to hack into the site and post the warning…

Then Tobias Hankel brought Reid back… Only to hold a gun to his head to torture him further. Asking for names…

Reid passed psych evaluation with minimal damage, minimal case of PTSD but while Reid could fool Bureau's psychologists he couldn't fool Aaron, Morgan, Gideon, Emily, JJ and Penelope. PTSD, drugs, the need to escape, the struggle to keep it together. They all saw the downward spiral and they all tried their best to drag Reid back to the surface. But each of them had their own problems.

Miraculously after New Orleans it all had stopped. Reid was still struggling and he still kept them at arm's length but he was clean and started to smile again and step by step he was coming to peace with himself, coming to control.

When Dave came around Aaron allowed himself to step away a bit because Reid needed to relay on someone with clearer head than Aaron's and if Dave was able to adjust to Reid he would be able to adjust to the team as whole.

Few bad cases, one after another. Reid's issues, Aaron's issues, Dave's issues… they played huge part into what could be a catastrophe for the team. Then was New York and the aftermath, then Colorado.

Too much, too soon, too bad and after that from bad to worse and from worse to the worst. They pulled through. He pulled through.

Reid knew when, where and what to say. Reid had courage to hold him to double standards. Reid pulled through and if Reid pulled through then so could Aaron even if physically Aaron recovered faster than Reid. Aaron didn't try to apply double standards any longer, not to Reid.

And after Haley was murdered…

If it wasn't for the team… If it wasn't for their almost insane but admirable loyalty, their uncanny ability to have his back…

Morgan took some of the reports load without asking and Aaron wouldn't even realize what Dave, Reid and Emily were doing behind his back until he had enough time and peace to count his pile of cases left for him right after he arrived to work and later around lunch break.

Fifteen in the morning, twelve by lunch, five of which he managed to tackle in the meantime. Three were missing.

On next day the pile waiting for his approval got minimally higher but he was down four files by lunch and six by quitting time.

On the third day he had enough of that mystery of disappearing files so wrote down every detail he needed to recognize them and pretended through the rest of the day that he didn't discover that his files suddenly grew legs and wandered away on their own. By the quitting time seven of his cases decided to runaway and all seven turned up next morning they in the pile of cases waiting for his approval.

Dave took two, Emily took two, Reid took three. He smiled at the gesture and headed out to bring the lunch for the whole team. When he returned he realized that the pile of his cases had gotten smaller again, this time by ten and since he managed to write down their details for further recognition he laid in wait for them turn up.

They turned on Monday. Dave took three, Emily took two, Reid took four, Morgan took one.

What was more fascinating was when they managed to find the time to do so. Once he took out whole team for lunch and he was the last one by the elevator. He remembered leaving ten cases in his office and he returned to five files.

It took him few days to figure out the exact mechanism of the kidnapping and he couldn't help but admire their nerve. All they needed was getting him out of his office for a minute before either Emily or Reid tapped against the wall separating their desk and either Emily or Reid made their way up the ramp, into his office, grabbed quickly the files, dropped some of them into Henderson's waiting arms and proceed down the ramp to Dave's office, seemingly for a consult and then down the stairs on Dave's side back to their desk. Once the kidnapper was seated in proper place Henderson was slipping them the files they ransacked. Then, if time and caseload allowed either Emily or Reid disappeared from the bullpen for about ten minutes and if not Dave sometimes came by to pick a case file or two and proceed to disappear for few minutes.

But that was months ago and in the meantime JJ left to Pentagon, against hers and theirs protests. Reid and Garcia took it the worst but they did their best to hide how much they missed JJ. Slowly Reid started withdrawing himself from the team, talking about what gnawed on him less and less.

Miami shook them to their very core because it was obvious that there was something wrong with Reid and he was doing his best to hide it and failing. And the way he said _pretended_. There was nothing to pretend. Reid had a migraine.

It gnawed on Aaron. Only he didn't know if it was one time thing or if there were more. But he trusted Dave and Morgan to handle the issue. Jack was having nightmares, Strauss was breathing down his neck and finally Doyle…

Emily's death hit all of them but it hit Garcia and Reid the hardest: denial and depression to the contrary to Morgan's and Dave's anger and resigned acceptance Aaron worried about the two of them the most.

Reid's despair was tangible, his depression evident and getting out of Reid simple quip about reconstructing the skeleton of the first victim in Jacksonville in two hours rather than three which Aaron gave him was surprising.

Reid was still grieving, privately and Aaron knew this kind of grief, he grieved in the same way Haley's death in which Reid grieved Emily's.

Aaron knew that if they ever were blessed with being able to get Emily back Reid would unleash everything which weighed on his mind, heart and soul. He knew that even if Reid himself didn't. Not until it happened, not until it sunk, not until it would start hurting as hell even more.

Morgan was hell-bent on getting Emily back and he was their driving force during recovering Emily. Reid? Reid was a zombie during whole operation, a robot, an automaton and he was holding himself together thanks to tremendous amount self-control. Self-control that slowly started slipping away when Aaron confronted him.

Reid lashed out and he used everything he knew he could say to hurt Aaron just as much as he was hurting inside.

They were too much alike for Aaron to miss the signs. Self-control was everything which could hold either of them together. Reid grieved on the surface longer than Aaron did, he needed more time to compartmentalize loss but inside…

Right now the only thing that kept Reid from pulling Gideon and running away or turning his own gun against himself was his daughter. After he found her Reid returned to BAU not for Aaron, not for Morgan, not for Garcia, not for JJ, not for Dave. He returned for Cynthia, just like Aaron returned to BAU for Jack.

But unlike Reid Aaron had more time to adapt to being single parent, the sole parent, because Cynthia's mother was most likely dead due to advanced lungs cancer. Garcia was screening hospitals across the states for the woman that fit the description of Cynthia's mother but she was still coming with nothing.

It wasn't easy process but Reid was very slowly adapting. Since he came back to work after two weeks of leave of absence they went away on two cases, each lasting three days and three nights and in a matter of those six days Reid made more personal calls in a single day than he usually made during a month.

On both cases they ended splitting three rooms between the five of them. First night of sharing the room with Morgan lead Dave, who shared the room with Aaron into offering to switch the rooms. What made it even more curious he made that offer to Morgan and not to Reid.

Aaron understood why on the second night. Reid slept like a newborn. After telling Cynthia bedtime story Reid promptly fell asleep and slept through Jack's bedtime story and Aaron saying goodnight to Jack and his cousins Molly, Zack and Rory. Unable to fall asleep instantly after that Aaron settled on reading Green Mile and within half of an hour since he started reading Reid woke up again, pawed the nightstand for his cell phone, called Cynthia's caretaker, asked how Cynthia's day passed, how Cynthia was feeling, apologized for waking her up (the caretaker, not Cynthia), asked about Ginger (whatever he was referring to spice or a person Aaron was unable to tell), wished her goodnight and fell asleep again. Then Reid woke up three hours later, woke up Aaron in the process, proceed to talk about Paddington for full seven minutes (Aaron counted) and fell asleep again.

It happened again on the next night and Aaron (this time armed with his watch) realized that Reid woke up and called his home on almost regular three hours worth intervals, never on the whole hour, always fifteen minutes past.

Their second case took them to Savannah, which in contrary to Portland happened to be in the same time zone as DC. The pattern in calls was unmistakable. Fifteen minutes after eight – half of an hour for a minimum. Then fifteen minutes after midnight and finally fifteen minutes after three in the morning. The latter calls never took more than five to ten minutes and Reid was instantly falling asleep after making them.

Next night Aaron slept through midnight call but awoke to three o'clock call and amusing story of Billie Brave Rabbit and Friendly Cabbage and Reid was fast asleep after prancing with the rabbit through the garden.

It made no sense whatsoever. Reid's daughter was three and half years old, not a newborn.

But waking up pattern didn't affect Reid's job, even better, considering the circumstances Reid improved and worked harder than ever with renewed enthusiasm.

And now Aaron wasn't sure if Reid would be able to return again.

Aaron knew that if it wasn't for the support of the team he himself wouldn't return and right now Reid felt as if he had no support in the team whatsoever and even worse as if he couldn't trust anybody. Certainly not Aaron.

What Reid didn't know was that this time Aaron wasn't going to stand in the shadows and watch how he was slipping away. He had done it too many times in hopes that Gideon, Morgan, JJ, Dave, Garcia or Emily would get to Reid before he slipped.

None of them would be able to address with Reid the most gnawing, most pressing and most secretly hidden issue. The issue, Aaron wasn't sure if Reid himself was able to fully realize, at least not yet in all this mess.

_Being in love with the woman he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life with._

Aaron took a deep breath and let it out hopping that Emily's return wouldn't cost them losing Reid.

_No. He wasn't going to allow it and he won't be waiting for Reid's personal Chester Hardwick to admit that what he wanted he wasn't going to get._

_**Not this time. Not this fucking time.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Confrontations

**Title: **Let Him Not Deceive Himself….

**Warnings: **Profanity. Semi-ignorance of 7th season aside the beginning and since no one had seen it yet, certainly not me, references to the opening are minimal and after the premiere AU. The story is consistent with Famous Last Words but that one doesn't need to be read because important parts of the plot will be heavily referenced when necessary. Spoilers for up to the end of 6th Season.

**Pairings:** Hotch's and Reid's friendship._ One sided Reid/Emily. Mentions of past Reid/OC - because babies have to come from somewhere._

**Chapter summary:** Confrontations aren't easy and they always hurt, some more than the others.

**Word count**: Around 11 000 and counting up.

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Feedback __welcomed with open arms._

* * *

><p><em>Anger wishes that all mankind had only one neck; love, that it had only one heart; grief, two tear-glands; and pride, two bent knees.<em>

_Jean Paul Richter_

**Let Him Not…: Confrontations**

**Spencer Reid**

The jet almost always took off from Quantico and it returned to Quantico with the same frequency. But when the call came in the middle of the night, the case was relatively close enough and the most important time was essential it was way easier and faster to take off from Arlington. Landings in Arlington were even rarer and they were always Hotch's call.

For most of the time it didn't matter to Reid where the jet landed after the case but this time he welcomed landing in Arlington with open arms because from Arlington he had only fifteen minutes drive instead of full hour.

Now he just wanted to come back home to his daughter, to the safety his house offered and to his bed because most of what remained from his strength he used to lash out at Hotch. He was bone tired, confused, hurt and furious with everybody and fifteen minutes taxi drive to Winfield Lane NW seemed like eternity.

He paid for the cab and looked at the dark windows of his house.

It was one o'clock on early Tuesday and most people were sleeping. He shook his head, fished out his keys and entered the house. He locked the door almost mechanically, dropped his jacket and messenger bag where he was standing and slowly climbed up the stairs.

The door to Cynthia's room were ajar and the soft glow of the night lamp was reaching the staircase and giving the room itself the feeling of fairyland rather than former study turned child bedroom.

The walls were lilac with delicate white flower accents, irises, roses, tulips and hyacinths. Cynthia's bed was opposite to the window and she had her head turned towards the door. Surrounded by flowery covers with her hair spread like a halo over her head she looked more like sleeping fairy than a little girl.

The baby-monitor on the nightstand was on and Reid smiled softly as he turned it off. Cameron's idea to keep the monitor in Cynthia's room allowed Cynthia sleeping in the comforting privacy of her own room yet a holler away of her sitter. It also had a downside because Cynthia's monitor was overlapping with Ginger's monitor so when Cameron's newborn niece woke up demanding feeding Cynthia woke up to the crying baby along with Cameron and the best way of putting Cynthia back to sleep was telling her stories through the telephone left in front of the baby monitor and it was also the reason Reid kept the sleeping hours of a parent of an infant, even though his daughter wasn't one. It was a little inconvenience but it allowed Cynthia to hear his voice and him to hear her sleeping. Now he was home and the monitor didn't have to be on.

Quietly he sat down by Cynthia's bed without tearing his eyes from her. He sighed softly feeling how slowly the confusion, hurt and anger was replaced by this heady and heart wrenching feeling that was still new to him. Father's love. Terrifying responsibility of bringing up bright-headed, bright-eyed, completely innocent bundle of joy, curiosity and overwhelming compassion and understanding.

He loved his Mum with the same devotion and strength he resented his father. It wasn't easy to learn how to deal with her episodes, how to drag her from the bed and do anything that made her less depressed. It terrified him that there was so little he could do to make her feel better, make her get better. The guilt of committing her to Bennington was overwhelming but it was a decision he had to make, for her.

He didn't understand how much he loved his Mum until Cynthia entered his life and he had to face his Mum's stubborn refusal to return to Bennington. After all DC had psychiatric hospitals too and if not DC then for sure there were some in Virginia.

He tried to protest but he couldn't win the argument. There were psychiatric hospitals and hospitals with psychiatric wards nearby and his Mum happily moved to St Elizabeth's with minimal fuss.

And now he wasn't sure if he made the right call by agreeing.

He shook his head. It was the right call because he could visit her more and his visits with Cynthia were making his Mum feel better. He wouldn't take it away from them no matter how ready he was to quit working in BAU.

He was still getting offers. White-collar crime had offered him whole range of positions, starting from technical analyst and ending on chief of the unit. That one was in Hoover Building. He wouldn't have to leave FBI, wouldn't have to travel unless completely necessary or at all depending from the position he would accept, he would be working steady hours, have more time for Cynthia and his mum and most important wouldn't have to subject either of them to moving.

Really, it was no-brainer. Except considering accepting that position made him feel like a coward and he wasn't a coward. But it was good offer and he wouldn't have to face the team. Of course they would be hurt that he would be walking away, Hotch would be antsy that he lost second agent to white-collar in a span of a month but he had Emily back so he shouldn't be complaining.

He shook his head again and chastised himself. No matter what conclusion he would draw from rethinking if he made the right call by staying in BAU he didn't have to make it now.

He yawned so hard that his jaw cricked. He really needed to get to bed otherwise he would end sleeping on the floor which wasn't the best idea.

Very slowly and delicately he pulled lose strand of Cynthia's light brown hair behind her small ear and he kissed her forehead.

She was the only one who didn't fail him lately, the only one aside of his Mum who didn't hurt him. And the two of them mattered to him the most.

Quietly he made his way to his bedroom, shed his shoes and collapsed on the top of the covers, having only enough strength to loosely wrap the coverlet around himself.

He needed to sleep, he really needed to sleep.

He bolted from the bed a second later to hoarse cry for Cynthia, wet as if he recently jumped into swimming pool and crawled straight into his bed. The covers were still cocooned around him and his heart was breathing as if he ran a mile.

He heard soft footsteps on the corridor before the door were opened slightly and Cynthia slipped inside. She was holding her white teddy bear in her left hand as she approached his bed and looked at him quizzically.

"Did you have a bad dream, Daddy?" she asked carefully.

Bad dream? Had he slept at all? He probably did.

"Was it about bad guy?" Cynthia asked. "Did he got away?"

"No…" he whispered. "He didn't get away, Sweetie. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's okay," Cynthia said simply. "Can I tell you a story? So you would sleep better."

Something settled around his heart and squeezed tightly. It was a feeling nothing could duplicate.

"Of course, Princess," he smiled softly.

Cynthia beamed at him before she climbed on the bed and looked at him skeptically as he remained half-seated on the bed.

"You have to get under the covers first and lay down, Daddy," she told him simply.

He laid down obediently and wrapped the coverlet around himself. Cynthia happily wrapped herself into the rest of the cocoon and laid her head on his shoulder.

He was lulled back to sleep by soft and at the same time excited voice of his daughter as she unfolded in front of him the story of Luciano The Black Cat and Evil Dachshund from the End of the Street.

At the mention of dachshund he smirked inwardly. Even if he wanted to he couldn't deny that Cynthia was his daughter. Apparently aversion to dachshunds was genetically passed.

If only he could remember what scared him in the first place…

…**Let Him Not…**

Next morning he barely managed to extract himself from the cover-cocoon without waking Cynthia. It took few minutes but at the very least he could take the quick shower to wash away the smell of sweat and tiredness not to mention find more comfortable clothes.

He showered but he didn't shave, not because he needed to shave, which he did but because he planned to spend the rest of the day and possibly week as the laziest bum on earth and any average Mr Smith with a toddler.

Dressed in socks, old jeans and Cal-Tech's t-shirt he padded his way from the bathroom into the kitchen to start coffee and to hunt the fridge for edible, Cynthia approved, breakfast. According to Cameron, Reid's neighbor and Cynthia's sitter and caretaker when he was way, Cynthia was very picky eater when it came to breakfasts. His rebuff was that at the very least Cynthia was breakfast-eater unlike him because he only ate breakfasts on weekends and during the rest of the week he lived on coffee-shop cakes and muffins.

He barely opened the fridge, located milk and marmalade, which might be a part of waffles as long as he would manage to locate flour when someone knocked on the front door.

It wasn't mailman because lion part of his correspondence was delivered to the office, what wasn't were bills and he always paid them on time. It wasn't Cameron because at six o'clock in the morning she was still sleeping because Ginger always woke up half past six and Cameron had her own keys.

Who in the name of Einstein would give him this kind of wakeup call?

He approached the door and looked through the peephole.

_Emily._

Great. If she heard his lash out at Hotch she came to his house to chastise him. If she didn't then she came to apologize.

He didn't want an apology. Certainly not from her. He didn't want her to emotionally coerce him into placing all the blame on her and her alone. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to compartmentalize and most certainly he wanted the raising bile in his throat to go away, that and the sudden heaviness on his shoulders.

Pretending that he wasn't home wouldn't get him anywhere because Emily would ascertain it by either calling or getting inside. Avoidance wasn't an option. So he swallowed around the bile in his throat, straightened his shoulders and opened the door.

Emily didn't look as if she slept well. She looked haunted and tense, even in the comfortable outfit that consisted from jeans, too big t-shirt and old washed off jeans jacket.

When she saw him she smiled nervously and raised Starbucks cup as a peace-offering.

"Cómo es su cabeza?" she asked softly.

He could trust her to remember that when she died he was at his lowest and suffering from terrible migraines.

"Better than it was," he shrugged as he opened the door wider. "I didn't have a migraine for a while."

"Oh," Emily said softly. "Do you know what it was?"

He didn't. They just went away as suddenly as they started.

"Apparently a very bizarre allergy," Reid said simply. "To revengeful psychopaths, blatant, supposedly well-meaning lies if lies could be well-meaning and being blindsided, repeatedly. I can be my own lies detector. I only need a year worth supply of ibuprofen and I will make it."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself and he cringed inwardly at Emily's hurt expression.

"Reid," she said softly. "I'm so sorry…"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Reid said slowly. "You were terrified, you thought that you would manage to beat Doyle on your own, you were protecting us, protecting Declan, protecting yourself… Profiler with unclear head is more prone to mistakes."

He needed to get out. Now. But he couldn't wander away without Cynthia.

So he swiftly walked into the kitchen and busied himself with preparing breakfast for Cynthia.

"You are angry," Emily said from the doorway.

"Not at you," Reid shrugged. "Trust me you are the last person I'm angry with right now."

"I don't think so," Emily said skeptically. "It's five past six o'clock in the morning and you are wounded up tighter than Hotch's tie before meeting with Strauss."

Reid snorted inwardly.

"Did he put you up to it?" he asked after a moment. "To make sure that I won't lose it?"

"Why would he? Why would you?" Emily asked as she settled both cups on the island.

"Because last time I checked withholding important for the team information fell into the category of putting oneself above the team. So unless dead friend not really being dead counts as unimportant information he is guilty as charged… again. Don't worry, I'm not going to play Russian roulette with my own gun," Reid snorted.

"He only did what I asked for," Emily said softly.

"Well then you asked for too much," Reid sneered. "You didn't ask for enough. You were so driven to do it all on your own that you forgot that the team is a family and families protect one another. Did you forgot that together we are stronger than apart? Did you forget that every time one of us puts themselves above the team bad things happen? I'm guilty of that, Emily. I knowingly put myself above the team in West Bune. I knowingly put myself above the team in New Orleans. I knowingly put myself above the team in Atlanta. I knowingly put myself above the team in Miami. And every single time I made it out by scrapes and I knew what would happen if I didn't…"

"I was protecting you, all of you," Emily said quickly. "I was protecting all of you, I was protecting Declan… Doyle would have killed all of you."

"Doyle is dead and we are not," Reid snorted. "Declan is alive, you are alive and everything is fucking fine except it isn't. You know what I told the narcissists? During grief assessment I told him what had been bugging me for a longer while. If we cannot keep each other safe then why we are even doing any of these and now I think that if we cannot trust each other then how we are supposed to do any of these. How can I be sure that the man standing behind my back is going to shot the unsub and not me? Do I have to start demanding open coffins during funerals to make sure that there is a body inside? Maybe I should go all the way and I should start second guessing myself…"

"You don't understand," Emily said softly. "You don't understand the paranoid need to protect your family. I had to protect all of you, I had to protect Declan. He still remembers… he still needs me…"

"No, Emily, it's you who don't understand," Reid said bitterly. "Do I understand the need to protect my family? Am I willing to kill anyone who comes in and harms my family? I'm more than willing and more than ready. Next thing you will tell me is that my severe abandonment issues are getting in the way and clouding my judgment. Later you will call me self-centered ass who makes everything about himself. Go ahead, you can do this now. Feel free. Do it, it will make you feel better, it will make you feel in control and that's what you need, to finally have control over the situation. You don't have to worry that I will put a bullet in my head after that, you will be only telling the truth and truth is certainly better than all the lies I heard lately. Let's start with she never made it from the table. No, let's start earlier because that was a crowning jewel…"

"Reid…" Emily started.

"You should have trust us, Emily," he added sourly. "It's good to have you back but you shouldn't have left in the first place. As for Declan," he shrugged, "do it, kids are grounding, he needs a mother and you need him. Perhaps parenthood will remind you that family comes first. Now excuse me I have something to do."

He couldn't stay here any longer. He couldn't stare at Emily because if he continued to do so he would end up saying things he was going to regret or things which would hurt her more. He didn't need to feel more guilty. Besides Cynthia needed to have breakfast and he didn't have enough strength left to prepare it himself.

"What do you want Reid?" Emily asked quietly.

"It doesn't matter," he shrugged. "What I want, I'm not going to get. Let yourself out when you are done with coffee."

…**Let Him Not…**

Emily's visit should have been the only strength-draining visit on his early morning but another strength-draining visit came five minutes after the front door clicked shut behind Emily.

It was Cameron. Tired, defeated Cameron with her hair hanging loosely from a ponytail and dark circles under her eyes even more pronounced than when he left.

"Ruby was found," she said quietly.

"How is she?" Reid asked quickly.

Cameron swallowed visibly before she said softly, "Tonight at around two o'clock in the morning a woman fitting her description was admitted to ER in Fauquier Hospital in Warrenton, Virginia. She was bleeding into her lungs. She died an hour later in OR when they were trying to find the source of the bleeding. I'm so sorry."

"She had a lung cancer, Cameron," Reid said quietly. "I just hope that she didn't suffer."

"She didn't," Cameron shook her head.

"Can you do me a favor?" Reid sighed.

"Go with you or take Cynthia to my home?" Cameron asked.

"Take Cynthia with you," Reid said softly. "I don't want her to see Ruby like this. Oh, and she didn't have breakfast yet. And can I take your car? Mine is still in Quantico."

**Aaron Hotchner**

The call came shortly after two o'clock in the morning. It was an alarm from Garcia's computer about Ruby Devaine, Cynthia's mother, being admitted to a hospital in Warrenton. Aaron checked it out weighed the possibility of calling Reid and offering to drive him to Warrenton since his Volvo was still in Quantico but Reid needed to sleep and to cool off a bit.

Aaron slept through the second alarm which bore news of Devaine's death and came half past three. He read it at six o'clock in the morning when he woke up and was readying himself to take Jack and most probably the rest of the kids with Jess for surprise breakfast.

Devaine's death made him change his plans. He called Garcia, listened patiently to the list of curses under his address (some very creative and worth taking a mental note for future references) and asked her to completely clear his calendar for the day, postpone all meetings and to call the rest of the team that Devaine had been found, that she was dead and that he was taking Reid to the hospital for identification.

He called Reid's house from the road but he hung up when Reid himself drove past him in a yellow New Beatle Volkswagen, certainly not his, but nevertheless quite amusing choice for an automobile but Reid's choices were always quirky and always nostalgically classic, he was like Garcia in that regard.

Reid drove fast, not with neck-breaking speed but also not like grandma as Morgan dubbed Reid's early style of driving when in early days they were testing Reid's strengths in the field and it turned out that driving SUV wasn't one of them.

The good side of following yellow Volkswagen was that in the early hours of the morning there was only one yellow Volkswagen on the road to Warrenton and about four black Suburbans.

He followed Reid to Warrenton and stopped before the hospital, closer to the entrance than Reid. He barely get out from the car when Reid reached him.

"What do you want?" Reid sneered.

"To be your sounding board," Aaron offered. "Someone at whom you can lash out and let out everything that gnaws at you," he added.

Reid grimaced before he snorted softly, "It wouldn't be fair to Jack."

"It's not only about Ruby, is it?" Aaron asked softly. "It's about having the control over what is happening, control over yourself, over the others. You are angry at me, you are angry at JJ, you are angry at Emily and this anger scares you because you know what happens when people get angry. You lost control and you are second guessing yourself whatever or not you made the right call by returning."

"Stop it!" Reid hissed angrily. "Just fucking stop it, Hotch!"

"The world stopped mattering when Emily died and nothing made sense. It didn't make sense for a longer while but it started to sink back then. Instinctually you knew right then something which just started sinking, you didn't acknowledge it before because you had no reason to acknowledge it. You started healing slowly and now you are angry…"

He saw it coming, he had time to stop it, he had time duck and avoid it. But he just stood there when Reid's right fist connected with his jaw and he backed away a step with the force of the blow.

"I'm not going to wait for your personal Chester Hardwick, Reid," Aaron added slowly. "I want you to admit it at loud."

"Fuck off!" Reid hissed as he stepped away.

"I will," Aaron said simply. "Just say it. At loud. For once in your life admit to being selfish enough to want something, someone."

If it was possible Reid paled even more though he was already pale. Pale, tired, drained, he looked older than he actually was.

"It won't change anything," Reid whispered. "I only made it worse, Hotch."

"I know," Aaron said quietly as he reached out and gently place his hand on Reid's right shoulder. "It's not your fault. Sometimes everything is not enough."

"I don't even know how to say it, Hotch," Reid admitted quietly. "I had a friend in her and it was and wasn't enough. Now… Now I'm not even sure if she will ever be my friend. I wish I could … I wish I could … I'm not making any sense right now."

"You will make sense of it, eventually," Aaron assured him. "Now let's get you some breakfast, I'm not letting you get back into that canary unless you will eat something."

"I still have to identify Ruby," Reid said softly. "If it's her…"

"I will be there with you," Aaron said quickly.

"You don't have to…" Reid started.

"I know," Aaron nodded. "I don't have to but I don't want to leave you alone in this mess, no one should be alone with this."

"I'm still angry with you," Reid grimaced.

"You can deck me again if you want," Aaron offered.

"My hand is sore already, I don't want to end in a cast," Reid snorted.

_Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over._

_Octavia Butler _

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><p><em>Feedback is love.<em>


	3. Chapter 3: Consequences

**Title: **Let Him Not Deceive Himself….

**Warnings: **Profanity. Semi-ignorance of 7th season aside the beginning and since no one had seen it yet, certainly not me, references to the opening are minimal and after the premiere AU. The story is consistent with Famous Last Words but that one doesn't need to be read because important parts of the plot will be heavily referenced when necessary. Spoilers for up to the end of 6th Season.

**Pairings:** Hotch's and Reid's friendship._ One sided Reid/Emily. Mentions of past Reid/OC - because babies have to come from somewhere._

**Chapter summary:** All actions have consequences. The team prepares to face the firing squad while Reid struggles with personal problems.

**Word count**: Around 17 000 and counting up.

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Feedback __welcomed with open arms._

* * *

><p><em>There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences.<em>

_P.J. O'Rourke_

**Let Him Not…:**** Consequences.**

**Spencer Reid**

Yellow Volkswagen New Beetle on Interstate 66 in Warrenton's direction was highly visible because it was the only one the road, contrary to four black Suburbans. He never had problems with someone else's cars, especially if he borrowed one but he found himself wishing that Cameron had less eye-catching vehicle or that he didn't leave his Volvo in Quantico, not that it would help because blue Volvo was equally eye-catching as yellow New Beetle.

He spotted Hotch's SUV as soon as they passed Key Bridge. At first he thought that the Suburban driving behind him in a safe distance was any other Suburban carrying Mr Smith to work but his mind hardly functioned without analysis so it took note of the plates on the car, remained silent for a moment as it mulled over the combination before it dinged with warning: _Hotch is driving behind you_.

Hotch was driving behind him all the way to Warrenton and on the parking lot Spencer finally lost it.

"What do you want?" Spencer sneered when he cornered Hotch by his car.

"To be your sounding board," Hotch offered. "Someone at whom you can lash out and let out everything that gnaws at you," he added.

Spencer grimaced before he snorted softly, "It wouldn't be fair to Jack."

He knew that physically he was no match for Hotch but he was certainly faster than Hotch. Except he really didn't want to head down the path of physical violence, no matter how tempting it might be. He was better than that. Nothing which Hotch would say would lead him to it.

"It's not only about Ruby, is it?" Hotch asked softly. "It's about having the control over what is happening, control over yourself, over the others. You are angry at me, you are angry at JJ, you are angry at Emily and this anger scares you because you know what happens when people get angry. You lost control and you are second guessing yourself whatever or not you made the right call by returning."

This came from a man who forced the rule against intra-team profiling. Hotch knew where to hit and what to use. _Control and anger_.

From the team he was the most mellowed, the one least likely to get angry and because of that he was the most controlled one but when he lost it…

_Beware the fury of the patient man._

He wasn't furious, he was furious yesterday and fury always wore him down. He was in control. Yes he was angry, at Hotch, at JJ, at Emily…

Why he was angry at Emily? It didn't make any sense at all and Hotch… Damn that bastard he knew where to hit…

"Stop it!" Spencer hissed angrily. "Just fucking stop it, Hotch!"

_Colorado. The guilt he was still unable to erase. Knowing that she risked her life to draw Cyrus's attention away from him and shortly after Colorado the case with catching out, questions about him considering having baby geniuses, question he barely weaseled himself away without answering._

_Suggesting her as a bait for Viper even though he knew that she found the man disgusting. Aggressive ones always were… _

_Feeling sorry for her when she lost her friend and doing everything he could to help._

_This feeling which for a very long time he couldn't name when they were both assigned to the same task._

_Little quirks, small things, books, movies, multilingual discussions about both._

_Trusting her when he was barely able to trust himself with handling the case all on his own while Emily was looking for Hotch and he couldn't call anyone else._

_Poker games. Star-puzzles…_

_His attempt at trying to sell to her the idea of going to fantasmagoria… and the spur of the moment decision to buy an extra ticket._

"The world stopped mattering when Emily died and nothing made sense. It didn't make sense for a longer while but it started to sink back then. Instinctually you knew right then something which just started sinking, you didn't acknowledge it before because you had no reason to acknowledge it. You started healing slowly and now you are angry…"

_That fucking star-puzzle._

_It didn't make sense. It made no sense whatsoever. It couldn't have been this long. Not without him not knowing._

_Choosing her as the first person to confine in the problems with his migraines._

_The need to see, the need to know, the need to make certain…_

_Trying to make sense out of life again and this chocking feeling_…

He could stop himself, it would only take spare second, just this much but another feeling was overwhelming. Hotch knew, he knew exactly what he was saying and Spencer knew exactly when Hotch was heading.

He didn't want to hear it, not being spoken at loud. Because if Hotch said it then it would be real and it won't be something he would be able to compartmentalize.

Spencer's right fist connected with Hotch's jaw with such force that the older man backed away a step.

"I'm not going to wait for your personal Chester Hardwick, Reid," Hotch added slowly. "I want you to admit it at loud."

Spencer didn't want to.

"Fuck off!" Spencer hissed as he stepped away.

"I will," Hotch said simply. "Just say it. At loud. For once in your life admit to being selfish enough to want something, someone."

_I'm in love with Emily Prentiss, I had been for a longer while and there is nothing I can do about this because she never saw me as more than a friend and now I'm not sure if she will wish to remain my friend after everything I threw at her today…_

He felt the strength draining away from him

"It won't change anything," Spencer whispered finally. "I only made it worse, Hotch."

"I know," Hotch said quietly as he reached out and gently place his hand on Spencer's right shoulder. "It's not your fault. Sometimes everything is not enough."

"I don't even know how to say it, Hotch," Spencer admitted quietly. "I had a friend in her and it was and wasn't enough. Now… Now I'm not even sure if she will ever be my friend. I wish I could … I wish I could … I'm not making any sense right now."

"You will make sense of it, eventually," Hotch assured him. "Now let's get you some breakfast, I'm not letting you get back into that canary unless you will eat something."

He didn't come here because he enjoyed confrontations on hospital's parking lots. He came here for a reason. He came here to identify the mother of his daughter.

"I still have to identify Ruby," Spencer said softly. "If it's her…"

It was easy to add the last part. Easy and cruel but somewhat logical.

"I will be there with you," Hotch said quickly.

"You don't have to…" Spencer started.

"I know," Hotch nodded. "I don't have to but I don't want to leave you alone in this mess, no one should be alone with this."

"I'm still angry with you," Spencer grimaced.

He was still angry at Hotch, but he was angry at himself more. Angry for being blind enough to not see it.

"You can deck me again if you want," Hotch offered.

That would easy.

"My hand is sore already, I don't want to end in a cast," Spencer snorted.

…**Let Him Not…**

He didn't allow Hotch to drag him to breakfast first. From experience he knew that autopsies and identifications should be handed on empty stomach.

He was experienced agent and it had been a longer while since he puked at the sight of a dead body. Eight years, three months and two days.

But he knew that things were different when you were identifying someone you knew.

He knew Ruby. He knew her when she was well. He knew her where she wasn't. He knew the circles she was known. She knew right people in the right places.

She could have destroyed him, she had means to. If he quit week later than he should she wouldn't have a choice.

He knew her both as Ruby Devaine and Elsie Turner.

She offered him comfort and forgetfulness on the level Dilaudid wasn't able to offer. She was older, experienced, lonely, craved human connection. She left MPD after the dealer ring was arrested. She didn't breath a word about him or what he needed.

And she had given him his daughter. Trusted him enough to take care of her when she was no longer able to do so herself. He didn't love her but she didn't deserve to die alone without a chance to say goodbye to Cynthia.

Very short, still vibrant red hair contrasted against the paleness of her skin and the white sheet that covered her body.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered softly as he reached out with his right hand and stroked her forehead. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there. I'm going to take care of Cynthia, I swear and I promise that she will grow up knowing you and cherishing you."

He took a deep breath and nodded at the ME, "It's Ruby Devaine. I will handle the funeral arrangements…"

Hotch grimaced in a way that spoke clearly 'like hell you will'.

The team didn't allow him to handle Haley's. Hotch and Jess well only allowed to voice what they wanted to be done. Spencer himself, as the last mobile member of the team spent three nights in a row at Hotch's couch, screening the calls and holding Hotch's guns hostage. Rossi and Emily notified Jessica, JJ and Morgan talked with Haley's mother. Garcia handled the reception. Will handled the arrangements with the cemetery together with Kevin.

"It's really messed up, isn't it?" Spencer asked quietly as they left the morgue. "I'm burying the mother of my daughter, I'm in love with a woman to whom I'd never been more than a friend. I have an uncanny talent for burning bridges before I even cross them."

"You aren't burning bridges, Reid," Hotch said quietly. "Everybody has breaking points. Sometimes it takes one confrontation too much…"

"…or too little," Spencer sighed. "I should have realized it sooner, Hotch. I should have pressed a bit harder, should have more courage to admit it. How much we screwed up?"

"You didn't screw anything, Reid," Hotch shook his head.

"I mean the team," Spencer said grimly. "I don't want to talk about myself right now. I need to concentrate on something else."

"The proverbial shit has yet to hit the fan," Hotch said grimly. "I will be seriously surprised if a hearing of some kind won't be involved. If we are lucky with Strauss, if we are less lucky with congress. Right now there is nothing more we can do than sit and wait."

"Murphy's law?" Spencer asked skeptically.

"Murphy's law," Hotch nodded. "Come on Reid, let's get some breakfast."

…**Let Him Not…**

Rossi found them in hospital's cafeteria. He was accompanied by Will and they both looked equally disturbed.

"She Devil called?" Spencer asked as soon as they got close enough.

"I spoke with her," Rossi said. "She is going to read us riot act for sure. From the way she was speaking I suspect that for the stunt we won't be getting some heat."

"That's a good thing, right?" Spencer asked skeptically.

"It won't be heat, it will be a freaking bonfire," Rossi snorted. "How are you holding up, kid?"

"I've been better," Spencer shrugged. "But I will be fine, eventually. I'm more worried about the backlash."

"You have more important things to worry about now," Rossi said slowly.

"I will handle the arrangements," Spencer said simply. "I know what to do, I only need to make some calls."

"What needs to be done?" Will asked cautiously.

"If you think that you are going to handle it all on your own you are sorely mistaken," Hotch said quickly. "Did Strauss specified anything?"

"She only said that we had it coming for a while now. We are off the rotation until Monday and we are forbidden from stepping into the office until Friday, noon. All our reports regarding recovering Emily are supposed to be mailed to her. She put strong emphasis on mailed part," Rossi said grimly.

Something felt wrong about it. Strauss was a bureaucrat, a swift one but not even she was able to decide on their fate that fast.

"The order came from higher place?" Hotch asked pensively.

"Could have," Rossi agreed. "Something is rotting in there and I don't like that smell. But what's done is done and we are going to face firing squad anyway. There are more important things to do right now."

…**Let Him Not…**

The more important thing turned out to be funeral arrangements and Spencer found himself surrendering the keys to Cameron's car to Will who drove to Warrenton with Rossi. The other two followed Hotch's Suburban back to Georgetown. When Hotch parked in front of Spencer's house Garcia's Esther was already there and so was JJ's Honda.

JJ, Garcia and Kevin were already inside. Kevin was playing with Henry and Cynthia in the living-room and he had a very curious expression on his face. One that left Spencer wondering for a brief moment if Cynthia, Henry and Jack won't be having a _little cousin_ in relatively near future.

JJ and Garcia were in the kitchen along with Cameron. The kitchen was filled with food in various stages of preparation and it seemed that with what he had he could feed an army, for three days.

Morgan and Emily were nowhere to be seen.

"Emily called me," JJ said. "She went to see her mother, Morgan flew with her to act like a buffer between them."

"Good," Spencer muttered. "Ambassador Prentiss has her years and the shock of seeing her only, _supposedly_ dead, daughter without a prior warning might put her in severe shock in the best case scenario."

Maybe it was better that Emily wasn't going to be here for a day or two or more. He really didn't feel like facing her anytime soon.

"Personally I doubt in heart-attack. Fainting maybe. But as far as I managed to establish from what you were saying Mrs Prentiss belongs to the generation and class where most common personality is what my mum dubbed Martini," Cameron muttered.

"Martini?" Rossi asked curiously.

"Bond, shaken not stirred," Spencer shrugged. "You on the other hand," he motioned at Cameron, "look like a milkshake. Shaken and stirred."

"With a cherry on the top," Cameron snorted. "Just a disturbing phone call. Seriously nothing to worry about."

"Threats?" Spencer asked suspiciously. "Are you in trouble?"

"No," Cameron shook her head vehemently. "I'm slightly overwhelmed but it will pass. I need to focus and to do something with my hands."

"Internalizing makes it worse," JJ offered.

"I have good coping mechanism," Cameron grimaced. "Nothing makes me feel better than cutting, slicing, pummeling, frying and cooking. Vegetables and meat of course."

"Better that than individuals," Spencer nodded. "Is there one in particular you are planning to substitute with the cooking spree?"

"Yes, but said individual is miles away and by the time it gets to DC I'm going to turn into Martini," Cameron muttered. "Do you have vague plan for the reception?"

He didn't but he abhorred the idea of reception at funeral home or a restaurant.

"Ruby didn't have any family left," he shook his head. "Her colleagues won't be coming either. So I guess here is better than anywhere else."

"Home cooked food?" Garcia asked swiftly.

"My kitchen is your kitchen," Spencer nodded. "That goes for both of you," he indicated at Garcia and Cameron.

"I will handle the florist," JJ offered. "Any specific arrangements?"

"Irises," Spencer sighed. "Ruby was very fond of them if I remember correctly. Just one big bouquet. No ribbons. No captions. Plain flowers. Flag and the salve."

He felt the eyes of the others settling on him.

"Ruby was an undercover cop when I met her. Anti-drug squad," Spencer said quietly. "She resigned from MPD shortly after the bust. Now excuse me I need a moment…"

He headed to the bathroom to wash his face knowing that he had given them perfect excuse for sharing their opinions about his past drug-abuse.

"Why her colleagues won't be coming?" JJ asked quietly when he returned to the kitchen.

"For similar reasons why Bureau got rid of Mecklemburg back in early eighties?" Cameron asked pensively.

"You don't look like you were even born then," Rossi muttered.

"I wasn't," Cameron shrugged. "But Mecklemburg was Chicago's field office's hiccup. Especially when it came to cooperation with anti-drug squad, with them he was a very persistent one."

"That case was a top secret one," Hotch said pointedly. "You are a civilian who wasn't even born back then."

"I wasn't born for another decade after Mecklemburg's fiasco," Cameron said simply. "But I know Mecklemburg's survivors. My father was one of them."

"Ruby wasn't Mecklemburg," Spencer sighed. "She was the survivor, in a way. I read her medical record, if she didn't twist her ankle the day before she would be in the field with the rest of the squad. She was the one who nailed the others, that's why they won't be coming."

"She was forced to resign?" JJ asked quietly.

"As far as I can tell she resigned herself," Spencer shook his head. "Some things are too big to swallow, that was hers. But I see no reason to not honor her years of service. I owe her this much and not only for Cynthia, for myself too."

Being betrayed by supervisors was never an easy thing to swallow and Spencer found himself able to relate to Ruby's reasons for resignation. Especially now when he was toying with the idea himself. But that would come later.

…**Let Him Not…**

Surprisingly two days was all they needed to plan and prepare the funeral. After all only the team was supposed to be there.

Cynthia seemed to be holding up better than Spencer did. Ruby prepared her well for the possibility of her death and between JJ, Garcia and Cameron Cynthia acknowledged the fact that her mother was dead as something natural.

Cynthia's composure was one of the few things which allowed Spencer to keep himself together through Tuesday and Wednesday. That and constant presence of someone from the team.

On the first night Hotch stayed with Spencer and Cynthia and even Cameron was keeping them company until Spencer send her home to sleep. The rest of the team left late and return in the morning Rossi was the one who came around first and left as the last.

Like before Will handled the issues with cemetery. JJ handled the florist and honorable salve.

Emily and Morgan weren't scheduled to return before the day of the funeral because of overbook on Wednesday evening. They both called however. Twice on Tuesday, trice on Wednesday. The last time on Wednesday they both promised that if they won't be able to leave in time to make it to the funeral then they will hijack a plane.

"Better not," Spencer sighed into the receiver. "Trust me hijacking a plane is the last thing we need right now."

"Strauss couldn't…" Morgan started.

"I don't know who could and would and what exactly awaits us on Friday but you better send her a report soon," Spencer muttered. "Both of you. How is your mother, Emily?"

"She is better now," Emily sighed. "She was pretty shaken up yesterday but now she is back to her charming self. She commented liberally my involvement with Interpol, my desire to remain in FBI and BAU if I can help it. She feverishly disagrees the idea of me raising Declan and still working because I could stay at home, settle down. You didn't tell me anything…"

"I wasn't in mood," Spencer cut her off. "I need some recovery time between having bombs dropped at me and dropping few of my own. It's my life and I can live it how I want. I have a baby not leprosy…"

He caught himself before he could say more hurtful things.

_He was really screwed up._

"I've got to go," he mumbled. "Call JJ about the details."

He hung up and looked at Hotch before he huffed, "How I'm supposed to work like this? In so far every time I talk with her she says something that warrants this kind of response."

"You say them because it's still too soon for you to control your responses," Hotch said simply. "Emotions are irrational, the more emotionally engaged you get into the argument the more you let emotions control your responses."

"And you aren't going to assure me that we can work around it because we still don't know what's going to happen on Friday," Spencer sighed as he flopped on the couch. "That's another thing that bugs me in this mess. We screwed up, we screwed up big and aside of Doyle no lives had been lost. Normally we would be facing the hearing but in so far there were no calls, nothing more than reports."

"Unless there is another thing you aren't saying, Aaron," Rossi added as he entered the living-room.

"On this one we all have equal footing," Hotch grimaced. "I'm as clueless as the rest of you. I know what should have been done and I know that they are not doing it. Yet. I hadn't been summoned. I don't know if we are going to be fired, subjected to hearing or just a riot act. What I know is that we justified all of our actions and the only thing we can do is wait."

…**Let Him Not…**

The day of Ruby's funeral was beautiful. Sunny, the sky was clear, gentle wind was blowing. Cynthia didn't have any nightmares yet, which was a good thing. She even dressed herself without much help.

Like for the past two days the team was around since the early hours of the morning. To Spencer's surprise even Jess came around, with Jack, Molly, Zack and Rory. Considering the hour on which they arrived they had to wake up pretty early. Cameron came around with her nephew and niece right after Jess and right before Garcia and Kevin who arrived before JJ, Will and Henry.

"Rossi is picking up your Mum, Spence," JJ said gently. "Emily and Morgan woke me up with the text that their plane is leaving Ottawa. With Declan against Ambassador's advice."

"Because funerals are funny," Spencer snorted.

"Spence!" JJ whispered.

"Just saying," Spencer shrugged. "She is part of the team, there is a very big probability that she will be able to adopt him. Therefore he should be included. I know that much."

"You resent him," JJ said quietly.

"I don't resent him JJ," Spencer shook his head. "I'm pitting him. But he knows her, he trusts her and a guardian he knows is better than foster system. Nature and nurture."

"Spence," JJ sighed.

"I don't resent him. I know better than to blame the son for the sins of the father," Spencer said sourly. "Now excuse me I need to rescue my daughter."

It wasn't much of a pretext to finish the conversation because Cynthia was surrounded by Berkeley-Hotchner quartet and currently was subjected to having her hair brushed by Jess's oldest, Molly.

"What you are doing?" he asked curiously.

"Elfish braids," Cameron's nephew, Killian supplied.

"We had been booted out of the kitchen," Molly said. "Uncle Aaron is upstairs."

"What had you done in the kitchen that warranted the boot?" Spencer asked.

"We were making crowd," Zack declared.

"With the possibility of getting dirty," Jack supplied. "Will you play with us Uncle Spencer?"

"What exactly?" Spencer sighed.

"Can you teach us how to play poker?" Molly asked hopefully.

**Aaron Hotchner**

Some people say that lack of news are good news. Profiler in Aaron for most of the time agreed but unit chief in him vehemently protested against the idea. Lack of news were bad news. Especially considering their dubious status.

He was partial to Dave's opinion that what awaited them on Friday was at best a dressing down like they never received before. At worst come Friday they would be out of their jobs.

All of his contacts were either unaware of what happened or firmly declined any comments. He was getting more and more antsy with each passing hour that gave him nothing but growing worries.

If only he knew what they were going to face.

It didn't feel right that now after nearly a year he finally had the whole team back they were forced into this unnerving stagnancy without even a hint of inclination of what was going to happen to them.

At the very least Reid calmed down, moderately. He was still angry at him, JJ and Emily but at the very least with Aaron and JJ he was able to control it for the most of the time.

Emily was completely different basket and each confrontation with her left Reid more and more antsy and each conversation between the two of them had ended with a painful remark.

If he didn't know what it was really all about… If he didn't acknowledge the possibility of losing Reid if he didn't show Reid his support…

Reid's confrontation with Emily reminded Aaron a bit too much of confrontations with Haley after she moved out to remain impartial. Sure there were differences, huge ones but the pain of losing someone you loved and trusted was the same.

The truth was, Reid needed an emotional crutch. For most of the time he confided with the rest of the team but there were some things on which Reid couldn't relay on the team. He could rely on their empathy if they saw that a case was getting to him a bit too much but sometimes empathy wasn't enough.

Emotionally unstable Reid needed to have his mind focused on any task that required thinking. Usually a consult was enough and if a consult wasn't a possibility then there were other distractions. Poker, chess, quizzes. Aaron went through each of them for the past three days.

Sure he missed Jack, terribly but it was Jack's idea to have Aaron staying with Reid. It was simple: _Uncle Spencer stayed with us when Mum died_.

Jess didn't protest at all, more so she supported the idea and warned Aaron that they were going to come to the funeral whatever he liked it or not.

Aaron didn't plan to protest. Never mind so called '_Reid's effect_' Reid suddenly became Jack's the most favorite, funniest uncle. Jack's opinion was firmly backed up by Jess's kids that they had great fun with Reid during the weekend they spend with him.

Week after Reid came back to the team, on late Saturday morning after Aaron and Jess took the kids out for breakfast the scheming bunch decided that they needed to take a trip based only on their idea.

Aaron tried to coax out of them the exact location but he only got a series of directions. He was taken aback when he realized that Molly, because she was in charge of giving the directions, lead him to St Elizabeth's Hospital, psychiatric hospital. Before he managed to protest the kids were out of the car and made a beeline to the reception desk.

Aaron and Jess followed the trail to one of the common rooms where they found whole four seated on the floor in front of Diana Reid talking animatedly.

That took him aback even more. It was quite surprising development but all kids were happy to see Mrs Reid and she was happy to see them.

From Jess he knew that the kids had returned with her to the hospital on next Saturday morning, met Cynthia who came with Cameron and they spend better part of the morning at listening to Mrs Reid lecture on Arthurian legends.

On Thursday Jess arrived with the kids very early. Aaron received ferocious hug from Jack before he was tackled by the whole four to Jess's unhidden amusement. Jess brought with her fresh change of clothes for him so he eagerly took an excuse to have a proper shower.

When he returned to the living-room he saw that the kids circled the coffee table and were observing a card game between Reid, Kevin, Molly and the blonde nephew of Cynthia's caretaker, Cameron.

"What you are playing?" Aaron asked.

"Poker," Molly said simply.

"Don't let your mother hear that," Aaron sighed as he sat behind Reid and Jack.

"Curious she said the same thing," Zack mussed at loud. "Uncle Spencer is teaching us how to play."

"You chose a sore loser to teach you," Aaron smiled.

"I'm a sore loser because I hardly lose," Reid said simply. "On the other hand you are a sore loser because you lose."

"Don't mind me then," Aaron shrugged. "The more you teach them the more interesting the games you will make."

"They were sworn into secrecy," Kevin quipped. "In so far I discovered that the two of them," he waved between blonde-haired boy and Reid, "cheat. That king of hearts from the third round which Killian threw was on the bottom of the deck."

"How would you know that if you weren't cheating yourself?" Killian asked simply.

"He palmed it legally," Reid shrugged.

"The house had spoken," Aaron nodded.

"I want to see you playing against my Mum," Reid added. "You too," he motioned at Killian.

"Cheater."

"Eidetic memory, there was department memo about it," Reid shrugged. "I can't help applying mathematic, statistics…"

"It's called counting cards," Killian quipped. "Socially acceptable term for cheating. Speaking about palming I strongly suggest putting that ace of hearts away or I will demand a revision."

"Which ace?" Reid asked innocently.

"The one in your sleeve, the right one," Killian said simply.

…**Let Him Not…**

**Spencer Reid**

Ruby's funeral was like many other he attended in the past. Except other funerals didn't overwhelm him the way Ruby's funeral did. He didn't cry. He didn't love her. It was brutal admission but he didn't love her. He didn't mourn her on his behalf. He regretted that Cynthia wouldn't have any memories of her, any solid memories at the very least.

Cynthia didn't cry either. She was quiet and solemn, clutching on his hand with her right hand and on Jack's with her left. Jack was very solemn too and hadn't stepped away from Cynthia since they got out of the car.

On his right was his Mum, holding on Spencer's arm from one side and on Rossi's from the other. How Rossi managed to convince her to come with him Spencer didn't know but he had sinking suspicions that discussion about Dante was involved on some point.

Further to the right were JJ and Will with Henry and Jess's kids with Cameron's nephew, all huddled together.

On his left was Hotch and further to the left was standing Morgan, next to Emily with Declan who were standing next to Kevin and Garcia.

Cameron and Jess had to be further to the back.

_If only Emily didn't stand so close…_

He tried to inch his way a big farther to the right without making it obvious but after one step he had found himself stepping on Cameron's toe. He opened his mouth to apologize but she waved it off as no big deal.

About a minute later Hotch motioned at someone behind his back and Spencer sighed in relief when Jess and Cameron stepped forward increasing the number of people between him and Emily.

Declan looked sorrowful but kept his composure. Spencer couldn't blame him. Kid had it rough. Witnessing a brutal murder of the woman he considered as a mother and being kidnapped by a man who was once his father and later only the source of torment and fear…

He didn't like the kid but he didn't hate him either. Being a parent put a lot of things into new perspective especially after…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. There was no wondering down that path right now, possibly ever and the sooner he would get over it the better.

The rest of the funeral was a blur he chose to not acknowledge. He couldn't even explain why he found himself driving home with Cameron rather than with Rossi and his Mum. Rossi had a SUV with a lot of space and Cameron had cramped New Beetle with two kids already inside.

The drive was relatively fast and took only twenty minutes but with each minute the slow and at first gentle prickling behind his eyes was transforming into full blown migraine.

He survived dinner but after dinner he announced that he needed to rest and he retreated to his bedroom with a bottle of ibuprofen and cold compress.

Ibuprofen and cold compress lessened his headache just enough to allow him to sleep for a moment.

**Aaron Hotchner**

The funeral itself was relatively short one. Aaron flanked Reid, with Dave on the other side, next to Mrs Reid. Reid himself tried to stand as far away from Emily as possible without making it obvious and the only thing he achieved was stepping on Cameron's toe. Considering the gap between him and Emily with Declan which only had Aaron and Morgan separating the two of them the task of avoiding Emily was hard for Reid but after Aaron motioned at Jess and Cameron who were standing in the back to step closer to the front Reid calmed down a bit.

The harder part for Reid came after the funeral. If Aaron didn't know what he knew about Reid being in love with Emily he wouldn't be able to tell a thing that something was wrong when Emily and Declan offered their condolences but knowing what he did Aaron was quite aware that Reid was ready to bolt.

Which he did right after the condolences ended and the team had backed away to give Reid and Cynthia a little bit of privacy.

To the funeral Reid drove with Dave, his Mum and Cynthia in Dave's car but Dave's car was standing right behind Morgan's by which Morgan, Emily and Declan were waiting so Reid made a beeline with Cynthia in his arms to Cameron's car which was way closer even if ride in Cameron's car would be a tight squeeze.

For most of the day Reid managed to successfully avoid Emily. He changed seats at the table during the dinner and later claimed mammoth headache before he retreated to his bedroom from which he didn't emerge until after Aaron informed him that Morgan and Emily with Declan left his house.

"It's too soon," Reid grumbled. "I know that I'm irrational but I can't help it. I don't know how it's supposed to work."

"We will work around it," Aaron said sympathetically.

"If we are going to be working," Reid said grimly.

…**Let Him Not…**

Reid's words from the day before were echoing in Aaron's mind as he stepped into the elevator flanked by the whole team with Reid on his left, Dave on his right and the rest behind his back.

They were all dressed officially and seemingly prepared for everything that might happen. Seemingly. Reid looked uncomfortable in the same suit he wore yesterday to the funeral and was fiddling with his watch. JJ was wriggling her fingers. Dave was smoothing his beard for the fifth time in five minutes. Morgan was tapping his fingers against the wall of the elevator. Garcia was twirling around her rings and engaging the door of the elevator into staring contest. Emily had her arms wrapped around her chest to stop herself from biting her nails. Aaron was fighting with his instinct to take out his gun and emerge from the elevator armed.

It was stupid idea but rationally he knew that his team was in danger and that he needed to defend them.

The ding of the elevator announcing sixth floor couldn't come soon enough but at the same time Aaron wished that it didn't.

He took a deep breath through his nose, straightened his back and marched out from the elevator into the bullpen.

All eyes settled on them and many people shook their heads. Anderson who was awaiting for them right behind the door looked pale and uncomfortable.

"Chief Strauss is waiting for you in the briefing room," Anderson recited and as soon as he passed the news he started backing away. "She looks like…"

"… like she usually does when she wants to roast a profiler with her eyes," Patterson, Anderson's unit chief who was seated at the edge of the desk supplied quickly. "Either way you all have our support and understanding. Wolf offered gun power if it would make you feel better."

"It doesn't," Aaron sighed. "It's great to know that we have your support but I'm not planning to explain to Director the whole concept."

"She has it coming," Patterson shrugged. "Speaking about devil," he coughed.

Aaron took another deep breath through his nose, looked past his right shoulder at his team and motioned with his head at the stairs.

They entered the briefing room from through the door from the break room and one by one stepped inside.

Strauss was leaning against the other door with an expression which made Aaron worry if after the meeting all of them would be able to remain in BAU.

"Before we will start allow me to say privately that you all had it coming for a while now," Strauss said swiftly. "Your team has years of experience and is second in line of seniority and let me tell you that it were those two things that saved you from being fired on the spot."

Aaron nodded and motioned at the others to stay quiet.

"I cannot even believably describe how angry the Director was. Assistant Director Evans managed to persuade him into not getting rid of you on the spot by giving you a chance to prove that you can control yourself as the team."

"That's good," Aaron said calmly. "We can control ourselves and we can prove that this trust…"

"Do not interrupt me," Strauss said stiffly. "I trust all of you to acknowledge in how tight spot you are. No unit before you broke more protocols than you. You are as good profilers just as you happen to be the most uncooperative team in the history of BAU. Hot-headed, impulsive, irrational, disregarding your personal safety, safety of the team, safety of civilians. This is changing now and if all of you want to remain in BAU or in FBI at all you will have to acknowledge that things are going to change for you."

Aaron nodded.

"As a team you lose completely the privileges that come from seniority and experience. You still keep your status of Supervisory Special Agents but this status will be pending on personal detailed evaluation in thirty days by your unit chief," Strauss continued.

Aaron relaxed his shoulder a bit. That much he could do. They would behave, he would write the evaluations and they would be done with it.

"Through the next three months the unit remains in BAU pending on detailed review on the subject of your performance in the field, your ability to follow the orders of your superior and finally on your ability to control yourself," Strauss said.

"We can do that, Madam," Morgan said simply.

"I'm sure you can," Strauss said sourly. "But you are going to persuade me and the Director not by your words but by your actions which will be judged by impartial judge."

Aaron felt his mouth going dry slightly. **Now** it was about him.

"Oh yes," Strauss smiled grimly. "Impartial judge. I tried to negotiate with the Director on the subject but his decision remained unchanged. For the duration of the probation period Agent Hotchner you are losing the position of the unit chief and you are being degraded to the position of regular agent of the unit. Director wished to see in this position an agent with history of leading an unit and someone who will remain unbiased, impartial judge. I strongly suggest complying because from that compliance depends the future of the team in BAU and maybe even FBI. Did I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, Madam," Aaron said quickly.

"Splendid," Strauss nodded. "You will vacate your office through the weekend and you will move to the bullpen with the rest of the team."

"Isn't it…" Morgan started.

"Drop it," Aaron mouthed at him.

Morgan closed his mouth quickly.

"Who is going to take the position of acting unit chief, Madam?" JJ asked calmly.

"Agent," the door behind their back opened and Strauss stopped for a second to bestow a glare at the intruder, "Donald Jackson."

_The cold neutrality of an impartial judge._

_Edmund Burke_

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><p><em>Feedback is love.<em>

_To be continued. I find myself partial to the idea of danger, hints of humiliation and team support._


	4. Chapter 4: The Duck

**Title: **Let Him Not Deceive Himself….

**Warnings: **Profanity. Semi-ignorance of 7th season aside the beginning and since no one had seen it yet, certainly not me, references to the opening are minimal and after the premiere AU. The story is consistent with Famous Last Words but that one doesn't need to be read because important parts of the plot will be heavily referenced when necessary. Spoilers for up to the end of 6th Season.

**Pairings:** Hotch's and Reid's friendship._ One sided Reid/Emily. Mentions of past Reid/OC - because babies have to come from somewhere._

**Chapter summary:** Hotch and Reid profile the Evil Duck and they uncover the source of the bad smell and boy it stinks...

**Word count**: Around 21 000 and counting up.

**DISCLAIMER**: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

_Feedback __welcomed with open arms. Thanks for you support so far : )_

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><p><em>Man — is his dignity.<em>

_Simon Soloveychik_

**Let Him Not…: The Duck.**

**Aaron Hotchner**

"I'm sorry my watch is running a bit too fast," someone said from behind Aaron's back.

The replacement. His replacement. Fucking Donald Jackson. _Duck Jack_.

He chided himself mentally. Jackson wasn't going to stay longer than three months of probation period, Aaron would make sure of that. Even with the humiliation of vacating his office for the offending bird he would make it and he will have his team back. He just needed more patience, he was good with patience.

He took a long breath through his nose and turned around.

Only his iron will stopped him from laughing and from where he was standing the rest of the team had hard time with struggling with keeping their own mirth hidden.

Beige suit, white shirt with no tie, crème shoes, bamboo walking cane and beige hat. The man looked like a Victorian gentlemen and not as an unit chief.

_Oh boy. Three months would feel like forever._

"Agent Jackson," Strauss said stiffly.

"Chief Strauss," the man nodded. "Now that you are done with dressing them down can I have them back. I like my agents breathing and not psychologically tormented."

"Agent…" Strauss started.

"Madam, you allowed me a free rein, allow me then to apply my methods," the Duck spoke simply.

"Very well then, they are all yours Agent Jackson. Come to my office when you are done," Strauss said stiffly and she left the room.

"Charming lady," the Duck nodded. "Is she always like that or does she get like this only in your close vicinity?"

"You can't tell?" Aaron asked as calmly as he could.

"I can make an educated guess but I sincerely doubt that Chief Strauss would like to hear that she was compared to a mother of a bunch of teenagers," Duck said simply. "She certainly is one and by accident or on purpose she is applying same methods here. I just don't know if it's her usual approach or is only reserved for special occasions."

"What is your experience in heading a team, sir?" Morgan asked stiffly.

"Fifteen years of heading an unit in Organized Crimes in Omaha and last eight years in St. Louis, Missouri, the same unit," Duck answered.

"Twenty-three years. Shouldn't you start thinking about retirement?" Dave asked curiously.

"I thought about retirement," Duck admitted. "Around my fiftieth birthday and I decided to retire around the age of sixty-five."

"It's coming close," Dave quipped.

Duck smiled, "Oh, you mean all of this?" he waved at himself. "I got grey hair twenty years ago. The call from the Director found me vacationing in New Orleans, I flew directly so everything else is still in St Louis. Besides I like the image of non-threatening grandpa, makes surprising the opponent easier. I don't want to brag but I broke quite a lot of noses when I had to and I'm actively participating in marathons."

"Sixties?" Dave asked.

"Mid-fifties," Duck shook his head before he tapped his chin and said, "I know that your team had been through a lot in relatively short time. I also know that my presence here and in this position isn't going to make things better…"

"That's an understatement," Dave coughed.

Duck smiled quickly before he continued, "Consider me as a very long and persistent case of flu. I'm going to maul all of you make no mistake of that. Maybe not literally but in three months I'm hoping to head to the meeting with the Director and Chief Strauss to tell them that your team had passed probation period without fuss. Same goes for your separate evaluations and your position, Agent Hotchner. I have no plans to stay in BAU longer than necessary and I'm not planning to become a permanent fixture in this position. I'm hoping for your cooperation and I'm appealing to your understanding that the best way to get rid of me is to patiently wait through these three months and hopefully then your team will be left in peace."

"Are you telling us to cheat?" Emily asked skeptically.

"No, I'm telling you to do your job, allow me to do mine and in three months everything will come back to normal," Duck said. "You are a senior, experienced unit who knows how to do your job and not a bunch of probationary agents I have to lead by the hand."

Aaron nodded grimly.

"I'm quite sure that all of you would love to rest after the tense waiting period and as much as I would love to get to know all of you better I have few meetings to attend while I'm still in Quantico. Perhaps… would lunch on Monday suit you all if we won't be called away?"

"Most probably," Dave nodded.

"Great," Duck smiled. "It was nice to meet you for now. Agent Jareau, Agent Prentiss, Miss Garcia, Agent Rossi, Agent Morgan, Agent Reid."

"Doctor Reid," Dave corrected Duck.

"Doctor Reid," Duck smiled quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm unused to other titles. I will try to remember that."

"It doesn't really matter, sir," Reid shrugged.

Aaron frowned inwardly. It didn't bode well that Reid was so awfully silent.

"No sirs," Duck shook his head. "Jackson is enough but I'm also partial to Daffy and I don't get angry for Jackass because sometimes I can be one. Just one more thing before you will take the rest of the day off and go to enjoy your weekend. A while earlier Chief Strauss asked me to take with me to the meeting Agent Prentiss and before I will leave I would want to have a private word with Agent Hotchner if that's possible."

Aaron nodded grimly. He didn't like the man but he wasn't going to give the man an upper hand by showing it.

After a chorused 'Have a good day' the team retreated from the room and Emily went with them.

"You have an intriguing team, Agent Hotchner," Duck said.

"If you are going to lead us you will have to start considering yourself as a part of the team," Aaron said stiffly.

"I'm going to," Duck said simply. "But it doesn't change that they are your team. Me? I'm necessary evil they will have to live with for next three months. You on the other hand headed this unit and most of the people in it for seven years. They know you, they trust you, they turn to you when they have problems. We both know what it's all about with delay and degradation."

"Humiliation," Aaron nodded. "Punishment. Politics. That's why I was ordered out of the office."

"Personally I would have no problems with the bullpen but I sincerely doubt that the nice lady will allow that and she knows that I checked if there are any empty offices to occupy," Duck shrugged. "I realize that it's not easy…"

"Please spare me…" Aaron started with a sigh.

"I'm going to," Duck nodded. "Just one more thing. Remember that I'm planning to give you your team and office back in three months."

"I can work with that," Aaron nodded.

"So do I," Duck smiled. "Till Monday then."

"Till Monday," Aaron said. "I need to see a man about a desk."

"And I need to see the lady about the dragon or the dragon about the lady," Duck said. "Either way I will figure it out on my way to get there. Have a nice day, Agent Hotchner."

"Have a nice day," Aaron answered silently praying that Duck would trip over on the stairs and break a leg.

…**Let Him Not…**

When he came back to the bullpen with cardboard boxes to put his stuff away and to move it to Henderson's desk Dave, Reid and Garcia were still waiting for him.

"What he said?" Dave asked curiously.

"He is hoping that I'm not sore about the office," Aaron shrugged. "I'm not… at least as much as he expects me to be."

"You are moving fast," Reid said as he pointed at the boxes.

"The sooner I will do it the sooner I will go home and frankly I'm disinclined to spend the weekend at moving the stuff around," Aaron admitted.

"Then let us help you," Dave offered and when Aaron looked at him he added, "You said something about speed."

"Too right, Bossman," Garcia nodded. "You boys go pack and I will clean whichever desk you got."

"Henderson's," Aaron said. "It's been a while."

"Yup," Reid nodded. "Look at the bright side. At least this way no one is going to glare at you behind your back."

"Small comfort," Aaron grimaced. "Let's get to work."

Two hours later what could be moved to Aaron's new desk was moved there. What didn't fit went into one of the boxes meant for storage in Jess's attic. Dave was right together they packed things faster than Aaron would do on his own.

At the very least their company kept other profilers in safe distance from loudly commenting on the change. That didn't stop them from throwing pitting looks his way.

For first five minutes it didn't bother Aaron at all but when Patterson started coming his way Aaron huffed inwardly and glared at the man. Long and hard until Patterson took a step back and changed his course.

He declined Dave's offer for a drink with an excuse that he was going to use his free time to spend the weekend with Jack and maybe with Jess's kids so she could have some time for herself, she certainly deserved that.

Reid offered his help with the other box seeing that both of them were heading towards the garage anyway.

It was certain improvement from Reid that in spite of still being angry at him he was still offering to help.

"It sucks," Reid declared when he placed the box in the rear of Aaron's car.

"We have to think in positives Reid," Aaron grimaced.

"Hypocrite," Reid shrugged.

Aaron snorted softly under his breath. Yes he was a hypocrite thank you very much he would rather have his unit in one piece without any surprise additions and in his position on that but that was beside the point.

"We still have our jobs," Aaron pointed out.

"Some of us," Reid quipped.

"Technicalities," Aaron rolled his eyes. "I'm still a member of the team."

"You are not in charge of it," Reid pointed out. "It pisses you off, it pisses me off and I can't help but wonder that there is something fishy going in there but I'm not going to talk about it here."

"Would you like a distraction?" Aaron asked skeptically. "One that goes with barbeque and kids frolicking in the garden?"

"You live in an apartment," Reid said simply.

"Jess has a house with attic and I need to store the boxes somewhere. Jack would be happy to spend the rest of the day there because of the heat and Jess's swimming pool," Aaron said. "Does Cynthia swim?"

"She is partial to baths at the very least," Reid nodded. "There is one thing though."

"Which is?" Aaron asked.

"Killian and Cameron. If I will drive home now to pick Cynthia up from Cameron that little cheater will try to weasel himself on board when he will hear that I'm heading to Jess's place and trust me Cynthia will question where we are going to head. Seeing…" Reid started.

Aaron nodded. He got what Reid was implying. The day was too hot to leave a teenager inside and besides Killian seemed to be fine in Molly's company and didn't seem to mind other kids which was good for a teenager. Plus if Cameron came around Jess would have someone to talk with so Aaron and Reid would be able to discuss things in private.

…**Let Him Not…**

**Spencer Reid**

Jess said yes, Cameron said yes, Killian said hell yes and Cynthia said yuppie and that's how Spencer found himself seated at Jess's porch sipping thoroughly iced tea and eyeing his daughter in Jess's swimming pool along with other kids aside of Cameron's niece who was sleeping soundly in her carrier.

Killian and Molly were managing to keep Cynthia, Jack, Rory and Zack from drowning. Jess wondered away with Cameron to talk about flowers and they left the grill to Spencer's and Hotch's devices, well the grill and sleeping infant but Spencer wasn't planning to wake the sleeping girl.

Doing something as blatantly normal as minding the grill while Jack was frolicking in the pool had a good effect on Hotch. From where he was sitting Spencer could say that Hotch was almost smiling.

Not that they had a lot to smile about lately, especially after today.

"You were saying," Hotch said as he flopped on the bench on the opposite side to Spencer and took a long sip of ginger beer.

Oh yeah, the initial idea why Spencer wanted to talk with Hotch outside the office.

As angry as he was at Hotch for lying he couldn't remain angry forever. He was still irritated when it came to Hotch but irritation was a bit more rational than full-blown anger.

Rationally he acknowledge certain things. Hotch was the best unit chief he knew, not that Morgan was a bad one but the difference between the two of them were simply preferential. It was like eating grapefruits, some people peeled the fruit off and eat it like oranges, some sliced it in half and used spoon to eat it.

His private issues weren't affecting any longer his view at Hotch's professional performance and the whole circus at noon left him severely irritated with higher ups in FBI.

Agent Donald Jackson in the position of an unit chief was a joke and a very bad one. Never mind man's physical appareance because Spencer knew that looks could be deceiving. He himself might have looked like a beanpole or as once a certain ass in Montana had said pipe-cleaner with eyes but he could shoot just fine and he knew how to overpower an opponent, he just chose to relay on someone physically stronger to do it for the most of the time.

Jackson however… Jackson was tall. He was six feet one inch at the very least, slightly lanky but otherwise filled up. He had short white hair which through the meeting he kept under his stupid top hat, strong jaw, piercing blue eyes and the attitude which just pissed the hell out of Spencer.

Something about Jackson didn't add up. The air of a good uncle with this piercing gaze, the appearance of a Victorian gentleman taking a stroll in the park with physical fitness. Finally the career track record.

It was that career track record which bothered Spencer enough to look things up and to make few calls while Hotch was talking with the man and later hunting the maintainers for the desk.

He had his contacts in Omaha and St Louis. Four of his fellow trainees ended there, two in each office.

"The guy has a track record here," Steve Robertson and George Wilcox from Omaha confirmed. "Other than that he seems to be a ghost. There are no pictures of him in there and I assure you that if I asked lower personnel about the man they wouldn't remember him."

"I work in Organized Crimes, Reader," Ted Wesston snorted. "I can swear on everything you want me to that Donald Nathan Jackson by paperwork is a former agent of one of the two remaining units but frankly I hadn't seen a jackass with this face since I got there and trust me I wouldn't miss that one. Kevin Hawyer can swear by it too even if he is with white collar, OC and WC overlap each other sometimes."

"I can inform you that Donald Nathan Jackson according to paper-trail is an agent of a bureau and had been for past twenty-five years. Paper-trail kept him in Omaha and later in St Louis but right after the meeting I talked with Wesston from St Louis and he works in Organized Crimes. He had never seen the man," Spencer said stiffly.

Hotch's face became frozen.

"It has been bugging me from the very beginning," Spencer continued. "This is this rotting smell Rossi was smelling. We have to face the reality, Jackson was planted in BAU as a bug."

"It's actually worse than it looks, Reid," Hotch grimaced. "I have no doubt that the Director was really involved, I'm sure he was which makes it even worse. We have a consented, director-approved bug. That's why there wasn't a hearing of any sort. They were looking for a scapegoat and we fit it perfectly."

"The question is what we are doing now?" Spencer sighed.

"I would love to say we get a rolled up newspaper to kill the offending bug," Hotch snorted. "But it's not that easy. There is an undercover operation going in BAU, a long-term one and I know how those things work. They always work in pairs. One is loud, obnoxious and obvious while quietly on board is brought another one, either before or after the appearance of the false one. The false bug coordinates operation and communicates with his supervisors, that's why they are usually in charge of them."

"And the real bug is doing the real job," Spencer nodded. "The question is why?"

"Whatever it is we are too close to see it," Hotch grimaced. "The only comforting thing is that if we got false bug then we aren't the goal of the investigation, at the very least not a direct one."

"So what we are going to do about him?" Spencer muttered.

"Sit and wait for the operation to unfold," Hotch muttered.

"Great," Spencer snorted. "More secrets."

"We are allowed to be curious on the other hand," Hotch supplied. "We know that his story has to be true to some extent."

"He has the air of authority," Spencer nodded. "So unit chief part is true."

"Years in the position should be too," Hotch added. "An experienced unit chief and one that spend years in the position is proud from his track record."

"You are profiling the duck?" Jess asked curiously as she sat down at the table.

"Didn't you say something about intra-team profiling?" Cameron asked skeptically as she joined them.

"We know that his story is a scam so the best way to get to know the man is to profile him," Spencer said simply.

"He either divorced or was widowed," Hotch added pensively. "The ring mark is barely visible but the ring definitely had been there."

"He is probably a father," Spencer added.

"On what you are basing the idea?" Hotch asked.

"Gut feeling mostly," Spencer shrugged. "Unless he treats his team as children but he just strikes me as the type of a guy who has at the very least one kid running around."

"Probably," Hotch nodded. "He has no problems with downplaying himself if he has to."

"The kid in question is a girl," Cameron added pensively and when Hotch and Spencer looked at her skeptically she shrugged, "What? My father was a seasoned fed and yet he had no problems with playing with dolls with me when I was a kid or with tap-dancing in the backyard in the poodles of mud. If that isn't downplay then I don't know what it is."

"Point taken," Jess agreed.

"Even with downplay he cares for his appearance," Spencer added.

"So he was in law school," Hotch added. "Might have a track record somewhere. He could have been a lawyer but it wasn't for too long. Long enough for him to remember that first impression is a key but not long enough to keep with the rigor after he left. I would say a year, two at the most."

"His age has to be correct," Spencer said pensively. "Fifty-three to fifty-seven. Most probably fifty-five but I prefer to give myself a room to maneuver."

"He is comfortable with Jackass," Hotch added pensively. "So Jackson part has to be true to some extent too, not as a surname but Jackson, Jacques, Jack. Probably first name but it could be middle name he prefers. Linguistics?"

"Bite me," Spencer grimaced. "There was a hint of southern accent at the very beginning but it's not something he had been born with. It's more like something he had to learn in recent years so his second posting was somewhere in south. But he slipped out of it too fast. He doesn't sound Bostonian but he spend a lot of years in north which means that either he was brought up there or his first posting was there."

"So let's sum this up. We have a former unit chief of twenty-three years in his mid-fifties. Probably a former lawyer with not a lot of experience in the area. In recent years he got divorced or widowed. He has a daughter. His first or middle name might be a variation of Jack. His first posting as an unit chief had to be somewhere in north, the second in the south," Hotch said.

"Great," Spencer sighed. "We just narrowed the profile to about twenty-two percents of agents in bureau's employment, at the very least considering the age. Fifteen if we will take into account law school."

"I have a laptop with me," Hotch pointed out.

"I'm not Garcia but I might try narrowing the list," Spencer sighed. "Bring it on."

Three minutes later he was sitting in front of Hotch's laptop with the access to FBI's employment's records narrowing the list. He kept the age brackets expanded between fifty-three and fifty-seven but narrowed by law-schools.

He had three hundred agents that fit the criteria.

"Narrow it to fifty-five," Hotch said.

"One hundred thirty-five," Spencer said. "Unit chiefs exclusively… One hundred eleven. Unit chiefs with daughters… seventy-nine. Narrow it by fifteen years in the same unit, thirty and with another eight years we have ten. Jackson isn't here. Lets name you Jack and we will see…"

Three names"

Edward Jackson McIntosh. Internal Affairs in Boston and later in Los Angeles.

Jackson Adam O'Maley. White collar in Los Angeles and later in Chicago.

"Jack Abel Cameron," Spencer read quickly. "Organized Crimes in Chicago and Oklahoma City."

"Screen to the family details," Cameron muttered as she leaned closer.

"Relative of yours?" Hotch asked curiously.

"Married to Cynthia Jane Cameron. Father of Emerson Jane Douglas, Allison Jane Cameron and Katherine Jane Cameron. That's a quadruple yes gentlemen. Are you partial to psychological torture on alleged Donald Nathan Jackson?" Cameron asked grimly.

"As long as the torture is named security clearance and social visit," Spencer nodded. "You knew that he was coming to DC."

"I knew that he was coming to DC because he could, I didn't ask what for and when," Cameron snorted.

"Isn't he supposed to be dead?" Spencer looked at her.

"He was supposed to be," Cameron muttered. "And I know where to hit to make sure that Donald Jackson and Jack Cameron are the same man."

"Where?" Jess asked curiously.

"What witness protection had taken away from him," Cameron said grimly. "His family. The question is how much you are willing to have an unhinged man in charge?"

"You are a very supportive daughter," Spencer said sarcastically.

"I'm a supportive daughter, I'm also a pissed off daughter and I'm planning to inform daddy-dearest that the path to being welcomed home leads through lengthy, detailed apologies and serious amount of groveling," Cameron deadpanned. "This is going to be funny."

"Harpy," Spencer coughed.

"Part of my charm," Cameron grimaced. "At the very least he will have something to think about in his free time."

"Have you considered changing career?" Hotch asked lightly.

"Yes and I'm still fond of my job," Cameron shrugged. "Steaks are burning."

_Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth._

_Gautama Siddhartha, the Buddha_

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><p><em>Feedback is love.<em>

_The truth came out. Now it's time to deal with consequences, strengthen existing relationships and adapt._

_Next part: Past Present, Future Imperfect._


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